Husbands and Lovers
by Mercury Gray
Summary: Or, conversely, Wives and Sweethearts. A Napoleonic crossover of epic proportions exploring the lives of Jack Aubrey's daughters and the men who come into their lives. Crossover with Pride and Prejudice, Master and Commander, Vanity Fair, Hornblower, etc.
1. To Wives and Sweethearts

_"__To Wives and Sweethearts__...May they never meet."__ —Ja__ck Aubrey, "Master and Commander"_

Allow me to introduce my new pet project- My Napoleonic War extravaganza. In this story, which is centered on Jack Aubrey and his family, you will be meeting multiple families of good name and excellent reputation from multiple books set during the Napoleonic Wars, including, but not limited to, Patrick O'Brien's beloved novels. Feel free to note in your comments if you've found my oblique references in each chapter. Sometimes if I don't think it's obvious enough I'll make note of something at the end.

That being said, allow me to offer an apology beforehand. This will not be a dedicated fan's completely accurate fan fiction. There will be errors in time and place not completely cohesive with the books on which they are based. Children will be given where sometimes married couples have none, and birthdays assigned to those children to suit my purposes. This will anger some people, and I am sorry. For those of you, however, who do enjoy seeing your favorites suffer through domesticated life and its various adventures, this will be a fun frolic I hope you will enjoy.

As for time, I hope to finish this as quickly as possible. Updates may be sporadic, as I am beginning my first year of college next year and that will not be easy. Until that end, however, may we amuse and confuse you.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the curtain rises and the play begins. Attend!

* * *

It is a sad and universal truth that when considering husbands for their daughters, maternal figures place more emphasis in their efforts upon the contents of the gentleman's purse than they do upon his character, a device that lies less often than the former. Mrs. Sophia Aubrey was no exception to this observation, and with twin daughters in need of marrying had only redoubled her efforts on their behalf into the investigation of the condition of the purses of many of the eligible young men of their neighborhood. Her daughters were both just turning eighteen, a prime time to 'come out' for the season and find husbands, if their father could bear to part with them.

"And I've just finished the guest list for Fanny and Charlotte's birthday, Jack dear, if you'd please have a peek after lunch and see if I haven't forgotten anyone," Sophie was saying as Killick served the midday meal. The 'Jack dear' she was addressing was none other than her husband, Admiral John Aubrey, Royal Navy, and the party to which she was referring was the one celebrating her daughters' eighteenth.

"Have you invited Pullings?" Jack inquired, knowing how much his former first lieutenant would want an invitation to see Jack's children all finally grown up. He really had no inkling of who else would be on this guest list or why they would be there, and he really didn't care so long as there were a few time honored friends with whom he could pass the time and plenty of brandy to be had from the cellar to pass the time with. A congenial man who wanted little from life other than good food and the happiness of his wife and family, it took little to annoy or vex Lucky Jack unless it was asking him to coexist for several hours with a houseful of strangers whose only intentions were to drink his good wine, soil his carpets, and kick up a ruckus.

"Yes, dear, and I'm told that some of the best families will be up from London, I've sent invitations, though I don't expect them to come..." Sophie added, absentmindedly.

"Best families, mm?" Jack asked, sipping his wine with a smile. He still was not listening.

"Oh, yes," Sophie was saying, "The Crawleys, and the Bingleys...and I've heard word that the Darcys are to be in town as well!"

"The who, dear?" Jack asked, paying more attention to his naval gazette than his wife.

"The Darcys, dear. He is worth nearly ten thousand a year, and..." she lowered her voice with a secretive smile, "They have a son who will inherit it all."

This news did not mean half as much to Jack as it did to Sophie, who would die to see her daughters married to someone so rich, but that was only because Jack would have much rather preferred to see both daughters married off to sensible sea captains with a healthy respect for his daughters and a sound opinion on politics to keep him occupied during the debates that invariably occur during family dinners. As Sophie continued about this party trifle and that, Jack pretended interest and nodded and smiled away, still paying more attention to his paper.

Woolcombe had been spruced up for the occasion of Fanny and Charlotte's eighteenth- bushes had been pruned, flowerbeds replanted, and a new coat of paint on walls that had badly needed it had been doled out by the loving hands of the few members of Jack's crew he had retained when the HMS Suffolk had gone in for repairs and he had been put back on half pay, banished back to land until a suitable position for a Rear Admiral could be found. Yellowed by his promotion and parted from the sea that was his constant love, Jack had become somewhat melancholic over the past several months, and Sophie was hoping that this party and the prospect of seeing a few old friends might cheer him.

Anyone who could not be cheered by such a party surely had a serious problem, for good spirits were high that night and very infectious to anyone who was well in need of cheering. A small group of musicians played in the corner to the delight of anyone in the county who had come for the dancing, (for indeed, half the county had been invited and it seemed the rest were determined to show up anyway) and beyond them in Mrs. Aubrey's estimable kitchen, a small army of maids slaved away at stoves and fires to keep the food plentiful upon the tables while Killick ranted under his breath about the misuse his master's good china was getting.

Fanny and Charlotte, both in new gowns in honor of the occasion, were standing near the dancing floor receiving both congratulations and offers of dances. Handsome young women who had their mother's slim beauty and their father's height, Sophie was convinced that only the tallest of young men would be considering them for dancing partners, an assured way towards finding a man of considerably good breeding for the both of them.

Overall Mrs. Aubrey was pleased with the turnout: Enough of Jack's friends were here that he was both sufficiently occupied and happier than she'd seen him in weeks. But as for the honorable families she had dared to invite as a nod to their presumed proximity and not any previous acquaintance there were no signs of their ever arriving. Mrs. Aubrey threw the idea from her head and returned to her daughters to try and wheedle out from them what they thought of Sir Sidney Morton.

"Sir Sidney?" Fanny asked, as if she had not heard her mother properly. "He's nearly ten years older than the both of us put together, Mama!"

"Nevertheless, he's a handsome match, Fanny my dear," Sophie was saying to her daughter. Fanny exchanged looks with Charlotte, for Sir Sidney had come and introduced himself to the two of the earlier and no connection between his name and handsome could be made by either of them in any capacity. Pockmarked, short, and with a marked propensity towards bad breath, the only thing that might have recommended him to Mrs. Aubrey's attention was the large estate that he owned, Box Hill. He had danced abominably with both of them, though being good hostesses they had not said anything about it, and trod on both pairs of delicate feet more than once. Indeed, their nominal injurious comments during his set with them seemed to have given him an impaired idea of his dancing talents, and instead of sitting near the sideboard drinking his punch he was still causing concern among the other ladies intent on dancing.

Mrs. Aubrey became distracted by another conversation, as is wont to happen at parties, and drifted away from her daughters without waiting for an answer.

"No, Mama, I would not ally myself with Sir Sidney unless it was a last resort," Fanny retorted sharply to her mother's retreating back. "Oh, I wish someone interesting would show up; all the captains have gone downstairs with Father and they're the only ones worth looking at. Don't you think Captain Pullings is dashing, Lottie? That scar makes him look like a buccaneer!"

Charlotte, however, was not paying attention to her sister's comments on Captain Pullings' scar; her attention had been drawn to a party only now just entering the room; Four women and three men, much better dressed than the best of this company, were sallying forth along the dancing floor, really just the dining room with the majority of the furniture removed.

Mrs. Aubrey, distracted now towards the party approaching her daughter, rushed back to her twins' side to make the proper introductions, since the people of the group were completely unknown to the two of them. She curtseyed, lower than Fanny or Charlotte had ever seen her curtsey before, and the group gave their obeisance back. One of the men, all three observing women were pleased to note privately, was exceptionally tall and well formed; the other two seemed to be related, father and son, for both bore a great resemblance to each other.

Mrs. Aubrey was all in a tizzy, for these must have been the great and vaunted names she did not have the last hope of actually seeing in her home. "Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, how nice of you to come!" She was saying to one of the older women, who was (one could assume) married to the older gentleman. "Your children are all looking very well," She complimented, and the woman who was presumably Mrs. Bingley nodded amicably. "And Mrs. Darcy! A great pleasure!"

The other older woman nodded and smiled. "I am sorry to say Mr. Darcy was held away on business. This is my son, George," She offered, and the tall one bowed again, to which Fanny and Charlotte both curtseyed again as their mother introduced them as "Fanny, the darker one in blue, and Charlotte, the lighter one in peach."

"And these are my daughters," Mrs. Bingley said, "Victoria, and Caroline, and my son, Henry." At the mention of each name, its possessor curtseyed or bowed, much to the delight of Mrs. Aubrey, who was not used to such rehearsed displays of courtesy.

Though no sound interrupted further introductions, Charlotte saw the slightest of good natured smiles creep into George Darcy's countenance, presumably at the two of them being introduced by color. "Oh, Mrs. Darcy, you must try the pudding, our cook, Killick, there's none better," Mrs. Aubrey was saying, ushering the two mothers off while their children remained in a slightly clandestine but somewhat awkward circle. Fanny took one look towards her mother and let out a snort of laughter, shortly muffled by the application of her handkerchief to her mouth.

"Whatever do you find funny?" Victoria Bingley asked, clearly affronted that such a sound could come from a lady.

"I am sorry, but my mother is quite humorous sometimes. There she is, standing over there with your mothers, glancing over their shoulders to see if any of us have fallen madly in love yet," Fanny observed with another chuckle. Victoria and Caroline glanced discreetly, and turned back to the group with more supportive looks.

"She reminds me of Grandmother Bennett," Caroline remarked sympathetically.

"Our grandmother raised five girls and never quite grew out of trying to find husbands for them. Even after they were all married," Victoria explained. "We are constantly harangued by her inquiries on our marital state."

"Oh, I am sorry," Fanny said. "My mother will not be good for you, then. Oh, they are moving! We are spared from scrutiny a little longer."

The dance was ending, and the dancers milled about on the floor as the instrumentalists took a break between songs.

"Do you dance, Miss Charlotte?" George Darcy asked, and Charlotte looked at him in surprise, having not been paying attention to the conversation at all.

"Only if you don't step on her toes, Mr. Darcy," Fanny said with a smile. "I fear they have been most ill-treated this evening."

"I shall do my best," George said with an amicable smile, and Charlotte took his hand to be lead into the figure.

"I am sorry for my silence, Mr. Darcy," Charlotte said as they held hands for the turn, rotating around partners and then coming together again, "But my sister is the more talkative of the two of us."

She could see him laugh as they ducked in and around the other dancers, and when they again held hands, he said, "I had noticed, Miss Charlotte…But I like quiet women better than talkative ones," He added as the figures brought them together again. Charlotte blushed and said nothing more to him until the dance ended.

It was quite hot in the hall, and she forwent the known frontier of her sister's company in favor of the wide and blissfully empty abyss of the garden patio, which had been hung with cunningly crafted paper lanterns just for the occasion. Strung out on wire, they looked like fairy lights, hanging in the air.

"Thirsty?" George asked behind her, and she was surprised to see that he'd returned to her side, a glass of punch in both hands. She took one with a murmured thank you and let the cool liquid slide down her throat.

"I thought perhaps you might have felt sick," George explained when her glance inquired what had brought him outside. "You left me rather quickly in there, you know."

"There are too many people here for me," Charlotte replied, taking another sip of her punch. "I do not much enjoy large parties unless all invited are acquaintances of mine."

"Your mother invites the whole county, too?" George asked good-naturedly, studying her over the rim of his punch glass. "Parties don't generally bother me, but I suppose that's because I have to go to so many. My father, he's like you. A private sort." At her silence, he went on. "And yours?"

"He likes his friends enough, but he's not one for large parties either. He is an admiral, you know; I think the likes of land-dwellers vex him. Not orderly and navy-like enough," Charlotte elaborated. George laughed, and Charlotte could not help but smile; she found talking to him was not nearly as hard as some of the other young gentlemen she'd met tonight.

"He sounds like a capital fellow," George admitted. "Oh, there's your mother again. Shall we look clandestine or pretend we hate each other?" he asked with a cheeky grin. Charlotte's smile grew wider. But it was not for Mrs. Aubrey to leave them be; as all interfering mothers do, she blazed over to the pair quite unawares that she had spoiled a perfectly good moment to ask something of her daughter.

"Lottie, we're ringing the toast, do come inside. Oh, you too, Mr. Darcy, do come in and get some punch…Oh, I see you already have some," Mrs. Aubrey said as the two of them passed inside. "Fanny, where is your father?" she asked her other daughter, an inquiry to which Fanny gave the quintessential confused look, not having seen her father since several of his navy friends had shown up.

"Who's looking for me?" Jack asked in his booming voice, kissing his wife on the cheek and hugging both of his daughters close. He smelled a bit of brandy, and his cheeks were beginning to turn red. Having been hiding out in the wine cellar, his private retreat when the social battles upstairs got particularly noisy, he had returned upstairs when Killick came down to announce that they were ringing the toast.

Never one to miss out on toasting, Jack Aubrey climbed up on a chair while Killick, ringing the retired ship's bell in the kitchen normally used for summoning the family to dinner in a particularly enthusiastic manner, silenced the guests in anticipation of his master's toast.

"Friends and honored guests, on behalf of myself and Mrs. Aubrey, thank you for coming here this evening to celebrate my daughters' birthday. Eighteen wonderful years of life have been beautified by the presence of my daughters, years that I hope will continue to bestow themselves upon the both of them. To Fanny and Charlotte!" Jack said with a smile, holding his glass high.

"Fanny and Charlotte!" The company answered back, holding their glasses high and clinking them with whoever was nearest to down the contents and clap for the two girls, arm in arm, smiling and blushing with pleasure.

There was, of course, more dancing and food and revelry, but Charlotte did not have an opportunity to chat with the commendable Mr. George Darcy until he came up to bid his good-byes.

"My mother says she's been invited to tea next Wednesday," George announced after Charlotte bid another one of her well-wishers goodbye. "You wouldn't mind if…perhaps I came along?"

Charlotte blushed again, redder than she had ever remembered getting before. "I would like that very much, Mr. Darcy," she admitted with a smile.

"It's settled, then," George said, taking her hand and kissing it very lightly, which made her blush even more.

"Mother's going to have a fit when she finds out he's interested in you," Fanny said slyly to her sister, and Charlotte cast a hurried and harried glance at her twin.

"Who said he was interested?" Charlotte asked hastily, and Fanny just smiled and rolled her eyes knowingly. "Promise you won't say another word about it?" she requested quickly, and Fanny smirked.

"Not a word," she promised, holding up her hand as if swearing an oath. This seemed to satisfy Charlotte, who tried hard for the remainder of the evening not to look as though the entire party had gone, much to the amusement of Fanny.

* * *

So. You've met the Aubreys, the Darcys, and the Bingleys, so you know that Austen has not been spared from this Extravaganza. There's one more very small reference in here I don't expect anyone to get, and that was the Crawleys, which are stolen from William Makepeace Thackeray's Vanity Fair. They probably won't come in again. 

Enjoying it so far? Tell me about it!


	2. Charades

Here it is: chapter two. Hope you enjoy this; and tell your friends!

* * *

Talkative and vivacious Fanny might have been, but a snitch she was not, and her sister's secret of next Wednesday's tea guests stayed a secret until the next Wednesday. It was quite a welcome surprise, though, when Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy **and** her son showed up on the steps of Woolcombe for tea. Ever the conniving mother, Sophie mentioned how nice and cool it was outside and how Charlotte so loved walking in the gardens in this type of weather. 

Over her mother's shoulder, Charlotte caught Mrs. Darcy smile knowingly her way and then cast a glance at her son, who was waiting for Charlotte to give some assent that this was, indeed, the case. She merely nodded, much to the delight of her mother.

"Oh, perfect. How good of you to offer to take Mr. George outside, I'm sure he doesn't want to be inside while we gossip," Mrs. Aubrey said, and Charlotte colored, not remembering asking George to accompany her outside or, for that matter, George accepting the unsaid invitation. However, George rose from his seat, excused himself and gallantly took Charlotte's arm as she lead him outside, preferably as far away from her mother as she could muster.

Once out by the garden, George let out a laugh. "Your mother is a card," he said through his chuckles, and Charlotte had to giggle a little too.

"I hope you do not mind walking around our vegetable garden, then," Charlotte said. "I suppose I should have warned you," She apologized. "It's not very interesting."

"A sight more interesting than listening to four women gossip and discuss dress patterns, I assure you." He turned to look at her with a mockingly serious expression. "That's not what you've lured me out here to talk about, is it?" he asked in a suspicious voice, and Charlotte laughed at his caricature of an expression, louder than she ever remembered laughing before. "Now, regale me with the tales of these proud looking produce!" he commanded imperiously, pointing one haughty finger at some rather sad specimens of vegetables.

Fanny glanced over her shoulder out the window to see Charlotte and George by the garden, laughing with unrestrained mirth. In eighteen years, Fanny had never seen her sister amused by any one person half so much. "George Darcy, you are good for her," She murmured to her tea cup as she raised it to take another sip.

--

Overall the tea was a great success, in Mrs. Aubrey's opinion, anyway. Mrs. Darcy had been very cordial and amiable, and seemed to like both girls a great deal, much to the delight of Mrs. Aubrey, since to her that meant that Elizabeth Darcy would not be averse to having either of her daughters as a daughter in law for her very eligible son.

It was not an unfair observation; Mrs. Darcy did, indeed, enjoy both of the girls' company, probably because they had reminded her of herself in younger days with the handling of their mother's terrible manners with deft skill, but she was still a bit concerned about George marrying into this family (for she had seen the laughing in the garden as well, and the tender way her son gazed at Charlotte when he thought his mother was not looking.) It was not that she was too proud for them, no, but because her husband's prejudice might prevent the happy couple from enjoying full communion with the paterfamilias at Pemberly Hall.

If there was one thing that vexed Mr. Darcy above all else, it was military men, for he had a long and rich history of bad fallings-out with both branches of the service, stemming, one can assume, from his treacherous brother-in-law and one-time friend, Mr. Wickham, whose own misdoings, if the reader is not already acquainted with them, are both complicated and copious in mention, and are best left unsaid.

However, the time for overcoming Mr. Darcy, Senior's pride was not yet at hand, and while she was still able to keep her son happy, Mrs. Darcy would do everything in her power to let him love. And besides, there was always that sneaking possibility that George was merely being polite: a dark and selfish part of her mother's heart hoped that was the case, hoped that she might still be able to keep her son to herself a few more years before she had to share his boundless affection with another woman.

However, she extended an invitation to the Aubrey twins to come visit them at the Bingley's Dorset house, Frampton, where they were currently staying. Mrs. Aubrey accepted elatedly on behalf of both of her daughters, who would have accepted anyway but were mortified by their mother's presumptuousness on account of the principle of the thing more than anything else.

While Fanny detained her mother in the sitting room with the tea things Charlotte showed Mrs. Darcy and her son to the door, letting George kiss her hand in goodbye and blushing as he did so, happy her mother was not there to make something of it later. Mrs. Darcy made to follow her son to their carriage and stopped in the doorway, much to the surprise of Charlotte.

"My son will be very disappointed if you do not take our invitation seriously," Mrs. Darcy said clandestinely to Charlotte, her eyes sparkling. Charlotte's own eyes widened a bit, and it was all the poor girl could do to nod without letting her jaw drop open at this very open permission from a mother to dote upon her son. Mrs. Darcy said nothing for a moment, still smiling, though the expression had turned somewhat brittle, as though she were trying her hardest not to grimace, and then turned back to the carriage, walking over as if nothing had happened to be helped in by her son.

The tea was all Sophie could talk about at dinner, much to the vexation of her husband, who was more interested in his meal than her gossip. When the subject of the invitation to call on the Bingleys was raised, Jack looked, not at his wife, but at his daughters.

"Do you want to go, girls?" he asked patiently, and Charlotte could not help responding enthusiastically,

"Oh, yes, Papa, very much!"

Jack could not resist chuckling at his daughter's keenness and nodded, mulling this over. "I'll allow you the carriage for Friday, my dears, as long as you promise to tell your old father all about it when you get home."

Charlotte could not restrain her joy and jumped from her chair to hug her father, much to his amused and surprised delight. "Thank you, Papa, Thank you ever so much!" she repeated, over and over again, and Jack smiled at his wife at the other end of the table, patting his daughter on the back.

Despite the fact that he had not been paying much attention to what had been said about tea, it did not escape him that Fanny had mentioned very pointedly (so that her father would listen; she was very good at getting his attention to important details in this way) how much time George had spent with Charlotte outside, and how Charlotte smiled secretly to herself whenever the name of George Darcy was mentioned. He had seen the boy at the birthday party, overheard his conversations, and there was nothing there he did not find particularly unpleasant. Perhaps he was not a sea captain, but…that was love for you. Well, there was always the hope of Fanny marrying into the service. Sensible girl like her should have no trouble finding a captain for a husband, Jack thought reassuringly to himself.

Though the Bingleys were not of the aristocracy, they were certainly a family of means to judge by their newest estate, Frampton Hall, the third home to be purchased by Mr. Bingley. Before his marriage Charles Bingley had not been meanly endowed, being worth some 5000 pounds a year, but his marriage and the birth of his children seemed only to have helped his monetary endeavors, increasing his income to nearly 7000 pounds per annum. His wife, Jane, was sister to Elizabeth Darcy, and (as they had both come from tighter circumstances than the ones they now found themselves in) practiced a level of thrift as yet unseen among the women of her set.

However, a kinder hostess or a more charming woman you would be hard pressed to find after meeting Jane Bingley, and though their acquaintance at the party had been very brief, Mrs. Bingley welcomed the Aubrey sisters as though she had known them from infancy, ushering them into her drawing room and calling for her own children.

Charlotte immediately made herself at home in the first seat she could find and tried to make herself as small as possible on the divan as they waited. Fanny did not sit, and occupied herself in studying the drawing room as though there might be a test on its contents later in the visit.

"Oh, you have a pianoforte!" Fanny exclaimed as Victoria and Caroline came in, as though she had only just noticed it over their shoulder as they entered, though her eyes had glanced at it nearly half a dozen times since she had arrived. "You must let Charlotte play; she is simply an angel with her music!" Fanny said, seating herself down on the armchair across from the divan and smiling graciously at her hostesses, glancing at her sister with a smirk as George seated himself on the other end of the divan: had she not just given Charlotte the perfect chance to impress her Mr. Darcy with her musical talents?

Charlotte tried very humbly to beg off, very conscious of how pedestrian her playing might seem to these fine people, who came from much more money and schooling than she did. But Fanny's pronouncement had produced the desired curiosity, and there was to be no escape from a recital now. Charlotte had only just sat down at the keyboard when a footman enter to announce that luncheon was now served, and she was spared any potential embarrassment for another hour, at least.

Upon return from lunch, however, the cries of the curious could not be silenced, and Charlotte sat down once more to play, her fingers shaking on the keys so that the first few tentative notes trembled a little with her nervousness. Seeing, however, that her audience was so rapt and in no immediate danger of hissing her from the piano stool, she took her father's oft repeated advice (stolen, no doubt, from something the venerable Admiral Nelson had said at some point) and, to use his turn of phrasing, went 'straight at 'em!'

Her father's innate musicality, which she had rather fortunately inherited, coupled from an early age with constant lessons and the near omnipotence of musical instruments and sheet music in the Aubrey household had produced the desired effect in one child, at least; Fanny, on the other hand, was not as musically inclined and had even as a child preferred to sit and cultivate her mind rather than her musical skill.

The result had been one twin as vivacious and high-spirited as an unbroken filly who would sooner eat hot coals than play the piano for anyone, and the other twin as reserved and shy as the first was lively who adored her music but hated to speak with strangers, owing to the fact that she found herself neither witty nor interesting to hear as her sister. They seemed two halves of one complete person, one practicing and the other preaching, to use the old adage.

There was a great wave of applause at the end of her piece, as great a wave of applause as seven people can hope to make, for Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy had joined them in the drawing room after the luncheon had been cleared away and taken care of.

"That was remarkably well played, Miss Aubrey," Jane complimented, having heard a great deal of bad piano playing from her sisters in her own time.

"Yes, you possess a very happy talent for the pianoforte," Elizabeth remarked, thinking. "I might even go so far as to say you play nearly as well as George's aunt Georgiana, who is well-known throughout the whole Ton for her skill at the pianoforte. George, do you not think she plays just as well as Aunt Georgiana? George?" She was apparently rousing her son from the deepest of thoughts, for George jumped at her voice in an agitated manner and looked alarmed. "George, have you not been listening at all?" His mother admonished.

"No, mother, I have been listening very closely; indeed, it is hard not to listen to such lovely sounds. I was lost in Miss Aubrey's music," George explained, catching Charlotte's gaze to give her a deep and significant look, which caused her to color and look away quickly at the music, asking nervously and rather louder than she intended if there was something else they would wish her to play before any notice could be made of her blushing or any comment made on what George had just said.

When Mrs. Aubrey was given the account of all this upon their return to Woolcombe, she could not have been more pleased with the status of things, or of Fanny's report on George's comment to Charlotte. Jack was more interested, per his usual, in hearing how Charlotte's playing was received, a small comfort to his daughter, who would much rather have explained the music to her father than have to discuss once more the over-eager hopes of her manipulative mother on the subject of George Darcy.

They had been invited to return as frequently as they liked, and return they did, very often, happy for the excuse to get away from Sophie and her searching comments for a few hours at a time.

On one particularly nice day Victoria and Caroline quickly adjourned their party to the garden, enlisting the aid of their brother and their cousin to round out the teams for Charades while their mother and aunt watched the dumb show of these proceedings from an upstairs window. Caroline had begun the game by trying to act out the battle of Waterloo, much to the bemusement of Charlotte and Henry, her teammates.

"What do you think of them, Jane?" Elizabeth asked her sister, watching her son laugh aloud with his companions.

"The Miss Aubreys?" Jane asked, somewhat confused. "I think they're a charming pair of girls," she judged fairly, watching her children from around the curtains.

"Oh, Jane, why ever do I bother asking you?" Elizabeth sighed. "You would call them charming."

"I would not say it if I did not think it was the truth, Lizzie," Jane said with a wise little smile, and Elizabeth knew she meant it. "What's troubling you?" Jane asked, studying her sister's face.

Elizabeth was still staring down at the garden terrace; it was George's turn now, and though Elizabeth did not know it, his charade was Harlequin, the indomitable lover in the Italian theatre. He smiled as he opened his slip, his broad, beautiful face breaking into laughter as he read it, looking at Caroline, who must had written the name.

George took a moment and composed himself, pantomiming that this was part of a play, and began his charade with a dim-witted smile, a sad little mimic of a man in love, reading a make-believe letter and slumping back down in his chair, then rising and staggering about, his face a mask of imagined heartbreak, clutching his chest and sighing.

Then his eyes alit on Charlotte, and he froze, shocked, finally wrenching himself away from her gaze as though it had held him there like a prison-chain, gazing up to the sky in elation, suddenly all smiles- his love was found again! He grasped at his chest, struggling to clasp at something, and then tore his hands away, as if ripping out his heart. He took Charlotte's hand to make her into his Columbine (she giggled at her inclusion in the charade, and Elizabeth frowned a little bit more, that selfish motherly part overcoming her again) and got down on his knees, presenting the imaginary package to her and pressing it into her hand, tracing the outline of a heart in her palm.

Someone must have finally guessed Harlequin and Columbine, for George jumped up and pointed, and Caroline clapped for guessing the right answer.

"Do you see him down there, Jane? Trying to give his heart away?" Elizabeth asked sadly.

"Lizzie, I believe it is only a game…" Jane began to say, but her younger sister interrupted her.

"But it is not a game, Jane, not to him. He likes her, very much. I know enough about him to know that." She sighed again, and it was tired sound. "When did our children get old, Jane? Old enough to love?"

"Do you not like her, Lizzie?" Jane asked, knowing there was something more to Elizabeth's melancholy than just George's possibly marrying this girl.

"No, I like her. I like her immensely. That is just the trouble, Jane. I like her, and I fear Darcy will not, and that is what vexes me. All my life I've kept my son happy, and now, the one thing that will make him happiest of all may be the one thing his mother cannot give him."

Jane's countenance changed to sympathy, and she slipped her arm around her sister's shoulders, the two of them watching out the window as the game continued below. "I am sure you will think of some way to bring him around when the time comes, Lizzie."

Fanny and Charlotte were soon on their way back home after a good several hours' visit, pressed to stay by Victoria and Caroline, who said it would be quite all right with their mother, and especially by George, who threatened to make his aunt see sense if it wasn't. Charlotte was still somewhat dreamy when the carriage stopped at the Woolcombe front door, for George had kissed her hand again in parting and had left the smell of his cologne on her glove, which she had had pressed to her cheek the entirety of the ride home. Furthermore, she could not be persuaded to part with the delicious little secret of the charades game by her mother, and went up to bed without saying a finite word on the afternoon's proceedings, limiting herself to the broadest of statements so that, upon finishing her account, her parents were more in the dark as to what had happened than they had been before she had started speaking.

Fanny, too, refused to tell her mother, thinking her sister ought to have a few private moments in her memories their mother didn't know of, and merely reiterated what had already been said by Charlotte- the ride there had been uneventful, the Bingleys were charming, they had taken tea, and played Charades, but she could not remember exactly what had been played, and the ride home had been uneventful as well. In the dark and quiet of their bed, when Fanny knew her sister thought her to be sleeping, she could hear Charlotte repeating to herself with a sort of frenzied delight, "Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy…"

* * *

I loved the 2006 American ending to Pride and Prejudice, and I couldn't help but include a bit of an homage to it here as Charlotte does what all silly girls in love do, imagine their married names. She, of course, doesn't write it all over her notebooks, but that's the 19th century for you. More Napoleonic fun to follow, but I'm inclined to ask again: do you like it so far? 


	3. A Firm and Flat Denial

Who's a big bad college girl now?

Mercury's a big bad college girl now!

Ian: And therefore doesn't have a lot of time for writing, peeps, as a head's up.

…Did you just say peeps?

Ian: Just ignore her and read, please.

* * *

"No!"

The first word out of Fitzwilliam Darcy's mouth upon the receipt of his son's first request after a three-month long absence was a firm and flat denial.

It had not been an unreasonable request, not a plea for money to settle a gambling debt (which happened but seldom) nor an announcement that he was going to start keeping a mistress (which had never happened, and never would while Darcy Senior still had enough breath to throttle his son) nor a request for funds to help a friend in need (which, owing to George's very charitable nature, happened often.) It was merely a son asking his father if he might entreat the older man to meet the woman he hoped to marry, if she would have him.

And Darcy Senior would have none of it. What did his son know of love, know of marriage? How did he know who would make him a good wife? No, he would not meet this girl (for heaven knows a girl was all she was, and not a titled lady or anything of that sort) for all the money in Christendom. George would marry the woman that his father found for him, and that would be the end of that. No amount of George's extolling on her many virtues and the good, sound nature of her family and their position could sway his father to even consider being in the same room as poor Charlotte Aubrey.

As Mr. Darcy was, of course, a man to whom most of the world bowed deferentially in reference to his ten thousand a year, it seemed hardly a surprise that when he found out that his son was very much in love with a girl of little fortune that he forbade the two to see each other and ordered his son never to speak of Charlotte Aubrey in his presence again. Nevertheless, hearts in love take news like this very badly, even if it is to be expected, and this budding Romeo and Juliet are no exception.

When Charlotte heard of it, nearly a week later through the secondhand intelligence of Victoria and Caroline, she was heartbroken. George had been the one man she had placed complete and loving trust in, the only man she felt she was not at odds with. For days on end after the receipt of such heart-rending news she could be found walking in the garden, whispering to herself and smiling sadly at the few cherished memories she had of her time with George. She felt certain she could never love again, and no amount of her mother's pleading for her to leave the house to again go calling on the mothers of the neighborhood with eligible sons could rouse her from her depression.

George, too, was much the same way, but his feelings were more of anger than sadness. He had raged about Pemberly in a frightening state, his hair tousled and his clothes awry from trying to sleep in them, making him look, as one of the maids remarked, "Like a storm in human clothes, with his eyes all dark and fiery looking." He was having trouble sleeping now, the weight of his despair for having to abandon poor Charlotte without so much as a kind word hanging over him like the guillotine's blade hanging over its victims' necks, and on more than one night Elizabeth awoke to the muffled sounds of her son pacing in his rooms like a caged beast, unable to send his sorrow and apologies to his beloved for their most cruel rupture. He felt that to not send her his own words on what had happened with his father and what he was doing to rectify it was too unkind to Charlotte, who was young and new in the ways of the world and had not yet suffered the pangs of despised love, or, for that matter, of any love at all beyond that of familial affection.

But not all of the Darcy family was opposed to the match; Mrs. Darcy, having realized that she had come from somewhat similar circumstances as the daughter of a quite penniless and obscure country gentleman herself, knew exactly how Miss Charlotte Aubrey must have felt at the news of the proclamation, swallowed her pride and her misgivings on the matter, and set about pleading her son's case with her husband. So skillful was her cajoling (although, let it be mentioned for fairness' sake that she employed some methods not conventional in the teachings of Cicero and the other great classical debaters in her persuasive arguments) that scarcely a month had passed before Fitzwilliam Darcy agreed, grudgingly, to allow Miss Aubrey an interview.

Pemberly, however, was a long way from Dorset and Woolcombe, and Mr. Darcy Senior was not about to invite a girl he had no firsthand knowledge of over for a fortnight at _his_ home to judge her soundness for marriage to his son.

A compromise was finally reached and so, to acquiesce more easily to his wife and son's wishes, the family removed to their house in Kent, Knowlton Hall. Acquired several years back for George in the anticipation that he would need it upon the occasion of his marriage to a lady of breeding and fortune, and title too, if it could be had, Knowlton had all the haughty grandeur that any house owned by a Darcy seemed to innately possess.

Needless to say, it was an imposing sight for Charlotte as the carriage carrying herself and her family rolled up the drive, as she had long considered her grandfather Aubrey's great house in Dorset to be chief among dwellings and had never seen anything as grand as this. It is no surprise that Miss Aubrey, having little more to recommend her to this excellent and honorable gentleman she was to be meeting who was father to her beloved George than a scant five hundred pounds a year and a rather remarkable talent for the pianoforte, was sufficiently frightened as her carriage drew near the daunting gates of Knowlton Hall.

However, she had little to fear; those of us, who, having little more to do than read the society pages and therefore know more of the beau monde than it knows of itself, will remind themselves that Mr. Darcy senior had a sister, Georgiana, the same Georgiana of whom Mrs. Darcy had already spoken, who also shared Charlotte Aubrey's uncanny command of the ivory keys. Mrs. Darcy had remembered her comments on recognizing this, and she, having not been brought up by a terrifically scheming mother for nothing, had decided to capitalize on this weakness of her husband's in order to help her son.

Charlotte and Fanny were wearing their second-best party dresses, having already been seen by George and Mrs. Darcy in their first-best at their birthday, and had re-trimmed their hats, as well as their mother's visiting bonnet, in honor of the occasion. Despite their new finery, however, which would have made them look very smart in Dorset, the twins could not help feeling a little unfashionable as they stood in the entranceway to Knowlton, being that their best slippers were somewhat scuffed and their gloves were starting to show some fraying as well due to the extended period of wear they had already been put through, having had to suffer the whole coach ride to Kent with no time to search for a new pair in their trunks before arriving.

The housekeeper greeted them in a rather frosty manner, relaying the message that Mr. George was at a neighbor's house taking the air and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were quite occupied at the moment with business matters, and would they kindly follow her to their rooms. She did not seem enthusiastic with the idea that there were to be four more people to look after for the next week, and maintained such a starched and sour look as she explained the happenings of Knowlton that Fanny began to wonder if she was capable of any joy at all.

They had been given rooms at what seemed to be the farthest end of the house possible, and there was a strong smell of dust and neglect about the furniture. It seemed that the servants had not bothered to change the linens, either, and when Fanny informed her sister of this with a pointed declaration, Charlotte burst into tears and collapsed into the pillows, causing a small cloud of dust to erupt. Fanny sighed and sat down, very carefully so as to not rouse more dust, to try and comfort her sister.

"It is as though they forgot we were coming!" Charlotte lamented, and Fanny patted her arm encouragingly.

"I am sure George reminded them at every chance he was given, Lottie. There is not much to be done for surly housekeepers, I am afraid. Come now, you cannot cry like this or your face will become blotchy, and Mr. Darcy will think you have bad skin. Cheer up, Lottie, at least you're here. And you'll see George soon, if I have to march over to the neighbors and drag him back myself," Fanny declaimed resolutely, which at least made her sister smile a little and take her handkerchief to blow her nose.

It will only be fair to George to tell the reader that he had indeed reminded the housekeeper a great many times about the arrival of his beloved, and that this mess is none of his doing, for no one in the Darcy house cared more about the feelings of the Aubreys more than he. Mr. Darcy Senior, however, still nursing his bruised anticipatory hopes concerning his son's marriage, was determined to be as detrimental as possible to these marital prospects, and had given the slightest of hints to the housekeeper that she would not be reprimanded for not airing out the rooms beforehand or for situating these guests in an undesirable part of the house. The housekeeper, being like most servants in the Darcy staff a long veteran of their employ, had a great deal of respect and regard for Mr. Darcy Senior and took him at his word, determined that if her master did not like these folk then she would not either.

The housekeeper returned later to announce that dinner was to be served within the hour; with a sort of haughty glance at Fanny and Charlotte's dresses, both somewhat disheveled and not a little dusty from the unaired sheets, she added that it was normally the custom of Knowlton to dress for dinner, but as this was only the Darcy family and the Aubreys the custom was withheld for tonight. Fanny and Charlotte thanked her and went about trying to make themselves presentable.

It would seem their efforts were in vain, for it transpired that the man for whom all their labors had been executed was not to be dining with them that evening owing to 'a stomach complaint' in the rather choice words of the housekeeper. But the presence of George at the dinner table more than compensated, for Charlotte, at least.

Jack was less than pleased that his host should so rudely deny them his company when they had journeyed all this way here to see him, but he could see that his efforts had not been to no avail, for Charlotte was now happier than he had seen her in weeks, and her high spirits seemed to have cheered Fanny a little, too. He turned back to Mrs. Darcy, who had just asked him a question, and begged her apologies for not listening closer, earning a reprimanding look from his wife.

"That is quite all right, Admiral Aubrey, my husband is in the habit of letting his mind wander at dinner as well: I am quite used to it. I was asking if you had brought your party clothes. You see, we intend to hold a ball here at Knowlton, to celebrate our being in residence again and …alert all the families in the area that they may begin sending their calling cards again," Elizabeth said with a smile. Jack nodded, taking in what she had just said.

He had not gotten to be an admiral of his majesty's Royal Navy without some small command of deductive reasoning, and he sensed that there was an undercurrent of something else stirring in this party of Mrs. Darcy's. George would undoubtedly dance many sets with Charlotte over the course of the evening, which would, of course, be noticed by the mothers of the neighborhood, sending a covert message to both her neighbors and her husband that her son was off the marriage market. Jack had to admit to himself that Elizabeth Darcy was exceptionally clever; He'd enjoy having her for an in-law.

Sitting beside his mother, George was filling in Charlotte, who sat across from him, about all that had happened in their absence, and was feeling much better now that he had apologized profusely and in person for not writing to her to explain all that had occurred at an earlier date. Charlotte, while happy for the apologies, was more pleased with the simple reality of his being there now than anything else, and was more than eager to tell him so.

Her enthusiasm made him smile contentedly. "Oh, Charlotte, if all women were as easy to please as you, the world would be a much happier place," George said, remembering with some apprehension how young Charlotte really was- nearly ten years younger than he. Was he really that old, and she that young? It was not an imprudent or improper match, to be sure, but still; the sudden prospect of sharing his bed with her made him feel a little polluted.

He glanced down at his plate to try and compose himself, and Charlotte's concerned inquiry about his health seemed to jar him back to reality. He looked up; her childish giddiness was gone, replaced with a much more mature worry that he might be ill. The difference in their ages became lost in the shuffle of emotions that presented themselves at her anxious gaze, and George smiled bravely, telling her that it was nothing and that he was quite all right.

* * *

Why this topic always comes up in my stories, I really have no idea. Just a little mental instability for George, nothing serious. If you'd like, I made up a pictorial family tree while I was bored last weekend- email me if you'd like a copy.

So, what'd you like? What do you want to shoot me for? Anything? Nothing?


	4. The Unexpected Surprise

An Unexpected Surprise

Being the chapter in which we will meet a love interest for Fanny and his family whom you have no doubt heard of, fawn over the Mr. Darcys, hatch a devious plot, and astound you with a first class rendition of piano-playing.

* * *

After a week at Knowlton, Charlotte was beginning to wonder if Mr. Darcy Senior even existed at all, for she had not seen hide or hair of him since their arrival. She had supposed at first that he was still ill or still nursing his injury that his son was in love with a woman of lower birth, but after several days of such treatment came to the same conclusion as her sister; Mr. Darcy Senior did not want to be seen. She did finally catch a glimpse of him in his study, arguing with his son. Her attention would not have been drawn to the open door had the argument not been carried on in rather louder voices than one typically hears in an English country house. He was seated behind a desk, shouting at his son, whom Charlotte could not see, but who was answering back with just as much fervor.

He had once been a very handsome man, as Mrs. Darcy's continual fond praise could attest, and the traces of what had once been a very fit body in youth were still evident in his frame. Hair that once been dark and thick was now thick and gray, giving him an established look, a sort of antique beauty that reminded Charlotte very much of his son. Deep and passionate eyes flashed as he shouted, and Charlotte imagined that they twinkled as his son's did when he was happy. A strong nose and a firm chin rounded out his face, giving him the proud and patronizing sort of bearing his name was well connected with.

George had evidently had enough of their argument, for he turned around and walked crossly through the door, slamming it shut as he passed and ending Charlotte's secretive viewing of his father. He did not see her as he turned a corner and passed down a different hallway, a fact for which Charlotte was silently glad, and she returned to the other wing of the house to relay what she had seen to her sister to keep in the deepest of confidences.

Fanny listened to her sister with rapt attention, divulging what news she had come across when her twin had finished her intelligences. There were to be many young men at the ball, many of them George's friends who would come down from London for the occasion, a prospect that made both Fanny and Charlotte pleased, for Charlotte would have liked nothing more than to have her sister share her joy in love, and Fanny would have liked nothing more than to accept her joy; it was beginning to be rather wearing not to have a man on her arm to coo over as Charlotte seemed to do.

Elizabeth supposed, looking out over her ballroom and her many assembled guests, that it was a shame she had not had daughters; they would have been very easily matched at these parties. In fact, it occurred to her that the Aubrey girls were nearly beginning to be like daughters to her; it was with Fanny in mind that she'd encouraged George to invite his friends and acquaintances from school, something that would never have crossed her mind without the presence of those young women. To be young and in love again, she thought with a sad smile, watching her son laugh with Charlotte on the edge of the dancing floor.

"Must I really meet her family?" Darcy asked disagreeably, and Elizabeth laid her hand on his arm, frowning at little at him.

"You've been putting it off all week, Darcy, you must do it now. There is nothing you can say or do to prevent your son from liking her, Fitzwilliam. It would be much easier to simply accept her," Elizabeth counseled, going downstairs to meet her guests and covertly usher Charlotte towards a piano so she might lure her husband into the same room and spring her trap.

Snaring Charlotte to rejoin her parents, Elizabeth commenced to introduce the parties assembled at Knowlton for the occasion. "The Glovers, just there, with the one in the dark brown, they own a large farm west of here, and the Villeton family, they fled from France during the Revolution and have never gone back, oh, and they will be of particular interest to you, Admiral Aubrey, the man with the order of the Bath on his coat, that's Lord Horatio, our neighbor, Baron of Smallbridge and an Admiralty Lord, and his wife there, Lady Barbara; she was a Wellesley before her marriage."

"And the young man with them?" Fanny asked, her interest piqued by his fine figure and noble mien.

"That is Lord Horatio's son, Richard, from his first marriage. George will introduce you, they are very fast friends. Oh, they have seen us! Let us see if- Good Evening, Lord Horatio. I trust the wine is to your liking?" Mrs. Darcy asked kindly. Lord Horatio gave a small nod of acknowledgement and kissed her hand, smiling somewhat roguishly at Elizabeth.

"I would never speak ill of any wine served in your house, Mrs. Darcy. To do so could only be an insult to such a fine lady," he said eloquently, and Mrs. Darcy laughed prettily, pretending not to be flattered.

"Really, Lord Horatio, what will your wife say?" she asked, somewhat flirtatiously, and Lady Barbara only smiled; this must have been a game they played.

"I'll remind him that my brothers still command respect with the king and they can ship him to the smallest midge infested backwater they can find if he does anything to me that they don't like," Lady Barbara said sagely, which made Lord Horatio laugh and lean over to kiss his wife.

"And they'll make sure if the midges don't get me, your sharp tongue will, Lady Hornblower. Now, Mrs. Darcy, pray introduce me to my comrade at arms over here," Lord Horatio said, holding out his hand to Jack, instantly recognizable as being of the service in his dress uniform.

"Oh, Lord Horatio, this is Admiral Jack Aubrey, of Dorset, and his wife, Sophie, and their daughter, Fanny."

"Aubrey, did you say? Lucky Jack Aubrey?" Lord Hornblower asked, and Jack nodded in assent, much to the Baron's pleasure. "An honor to meet you, hear all about you at the Admiralty. Just had one of your boys in the other day for his exams. And your lovely wife." Lord Hornblower kissed Sophie's hand after he had finished shaking with her husband, whispering "Enchanté," to her glove as he did so and making her blush, finally turning his eyes to Fanny to be pleasantly surprised, the expression very evident in his face.

"Miss Aubrey, have you met my son yet?" He asked, and while Fanny shook her head in dissent, he turned and beckoned urgently to his offspring to come join them.

"Richard is looking very well, Lord Horatio," Mrs. Darcy said in a hinting tone. "Has he been home long?"

"Just a fortnight, Mrs. Darcy, and he's leaving again in a month. Captain of the HMS Audacious, you know, third rate out of Portsmouth," Horatio provided for Jack's benefit, a bit of information that made Jack nod with approval and which made the young man now trying to find his way across the dancing floor even more agreeable still to the watching father's eyes. "Yes, lieutenant at sixteen and post captain by twenty. Boy's got more promise in him than any I've commanded. He'll make Commodore by thirty if I have anything to say about it. Ah, Richard, finally. This is Miss Fanny Aubrey, Admiral Jack Aubrey's daughter. Miss Aubrey, my son, Captain Richard Hornblower," Lord Horatio said, looking as pleased with the proceedings as Mrs. Aubrey might have felt had she not been completely confounded at this turn in events. The Captain kissed Fanny's hand just as his father had kissed Mrs. Aubrey's and then took his turn to shake Jack's hand and kiss Sophie's.

"Lucky Jack Aubrey? They used to tell me stories about you when I was serving on the HMS Spritely, under Captain Mowett."

"Under Mowett? Ah, you had a treat of it, then, Captain Hornblower, Mowett's as good a man as ever you'll find. What stories have you heard about me, then?" Jack asked, pleased as punch that he could still be a legend within the service. He glanced at Sophie to find she was frowning rather visibly, and interjected into Captain Hornblower's reminiscing to suggest they move away to find some brandy and a good place to talk so as not to disturb the company of "these fine ladies." Captain Hornblower said he should like nothing better and carefully excused himself, glancing at Fanny as he made his apologies and left.

Mrs. Darcy and Lady Barbara exchanged glances as Fanny watched him follow her father, though Mrs. Aubrey seemed unmoved by the gesture, and the party continued on in its usual fashion. As the evening continued, however, something seemed to vex Mrs. Darcy, who could be found glancing expectantly at the door. Finally, it admitted whoever she was looking for, and she hastened to greet the new arrival with a peck on the cheek, back in good spirits once more.

"Georgiana! I thought you would not be coming!" She said in her usual tone, and then, leaning closer, whispered in her sister-in-law's ear, "Did you bring it?"

Georgiana nodded, covertly handing Elizabeth a folder of music as her sister-in-law took her cloak. "When is this little concert to be?" she asked, smiling adventurously at Elizabeth.

"Soon enough, now that the music's here," Mrs. Darcy said with a scheming smile, slipping through her guests with Georgiana behind her to deposit the music near the pianoforte and Georgiana near her brother.

Since it was Miss Georgiana's piano playing that was the impetus of this entire operation, Elizabeth thought it was only fair that her sister-in-law have a part in the fun. Having written to London to ascertain her sister-in-law's opinion of the plot, Elizabeth had asked her to bring with her a copy of the first song she'd heard Georgiana play, her brother's favorite tune, when she came to the Knowlton party. Georgiana, still very much a little sister, was only too happy to oblige. Steering Georgiana towards her brother to keep him occupied while Charlotte made her way to the piano, Elizabeth somewhat forcibly ousted the pretentious and preening young woman residing on the bench trying to impress the nearby George Darcy with her impeccably bad playing and promptly replaced Charlotte in her stead.

Darcy Senior was sufficiently surprised to see his sister, but when he pulled away from their embrace he found that she was smiling in that telling way she had not used since she was much younger. "Georgiana Darcy, have you been keeping secrets?" he asked, as much a big brother as ever, and Georgiana smiled again, wider than before.

"Don't let my husband hear you calling me by my maiden name, Fitzwilliam, or he may very well challenge you to a duel or some such nonsense. And women always have secrets, brother. You ought to know that by now, thirty years married as you are," She chided.

"It's to be thirty three years soon, Georgiana, and I don't quite care what the Marquess of Steyne makes of my calling my sister by her maiden name, I doubt he'd have the strength to fight me," Darcy Senior said with a laugh. "Why ever did I let you marry an old lord like him?"

"Because he was rich and he didn't try to run off with me first like the young ones did," Georgiana reminded her brother with a laugh of her own, "And he liked my piano playing as much as you do," she added sweetly.

Fitzwilliam smiled at the memory. "Yes, indeed. It was always a sight better than the din I've had to listen to all night, every girl at this party seems to think playing your pianoforte will somehow give them God's grace to play well," he said with disgust. "Let's give them a proper tune, shall we?" he asked, and Georgiana smiled in that secretive little way again.

"Yes, let us do just that."

Weaving his way through his guests with his sister following him, the bustle and noise of the party slowed to a halt as people began to see (or be told by their neighbors in hushed tones) that Georgiana Darcy was approaching the musical instrument she was famed for. In the still and reverent silence before Georgiana and Fitzwilliam could commandeer the bench back from whatever ill-tutored maid was doubtless sitting on it presently, a slow and soft wave of notes flowed out of the piano, chiming merrily along to enchant the ears of all listening as it built and crescendo'd and broke into softness again. Many in the back who could not see the pianoforte whispered to their neighbors that Georgiana's playing was much to be admired, and listened appreciatively while completely ignorant to the fact that it was not Georgiana who played.

Mr. Darcy was speechless, touched heart and soul by the playing that sounded so much like his sister's, his slack, surprised expression slowly turning into a slim smile. He moved around the instrument to see the player as the song finished, Georgiana following him quietly, her own smile bright on her lips. Elizabeth patted the young woman's shoulder as the song finished, and she stood up, quickly curtseying to Mr. Darcy and bowing her head so as to not look at him.

"That was…very well played," Mr. Darcy said, still much overcome. "You have …much talent to account for," he said, turning to return to his sister. The room was still very silent.

"Mr. Darcy, may I introduce Miss Charlotte Aubrey, of Dorset," Elizabeth said plainly, watching for her husband's reaction. Mr. Darcy turned back to face his wife, the surprised expression back on his face. Over her husband's shoulder Elizabeth could see her son smiling broadly, knowing whatever his mother had planned had worked its magic on his father.

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Aubrey," Fitzwilliam said finally, bowing and searching for something to say so that he might not feel completely foolish. "H-h-have you met my son?" he asked, his throat suddenly very dry, turning around to gesture George over.

"I believe I have already made Miss Aubrey's acquaintance," George said smoothly, stepping forward from behind his father, kissing Charlotte's hand and winking at her.

They had won.

* * *

Haha! George just pwned his father.

Ian: You realize how idiotic you sound when you say that?

Don't care, not listening. Sorry this story is moving about as slow as a monkey stuck in molasses-

Ian: Bad analogy.

Shut up. Sorry it's moving so slow but the only time I actually work on this is when I'm doing laundry, which is every other Friday.

Aesthetic notes-

The Marquess of Steyne also stolen from Vanity Fair. I'm not even sure why he's here -- He just sort of marched in and refused to leave. And you guys met the Hornblowers! Aren't they a hoot?

Now, I'm really concerned about how little talking goes on in this chapter, but I'm working on rectifying it in the next chapter. I didn't bring my copy of P&P up to school with me (along with the rest of my library) so I'm kind of forgetting the original sort of verbage, and I apologize for that. Be seeing you! Please tell your friends!


	5. A Captain and a Cavalier

Thanks to a bit of goading from my newest reviewer, Dark Rose, Chapter Five has become a go! Actually, it was done for a long time before this, but no one was reading, so it was kind of pointless to post something no one was going to read. Anyway.

Chapter five, in which Elizabeth becomes a less exasperating version of her mother, Sophie's relations come into the story, the characters remove to London, and several more devious plots are hatched.

* * *

Mr. Darcy Senior was both surprised and somewhat angry at the sneaking way his wife had chosen to introduce his son's beloved Charlotte, but now that he had met her, he was finding it increasingly hard to not like her. She was quiet, well-tempered, modest, and exceedingly polite, which made Mr. Darcy feel very ill-behaved indeed for being such a bad-tempered fool about meeting her before. It was quite easy, once introductions were made, to have Mr. Darcy see how much his son really did love this girl, and how the virtues of her person (rather than her purse) rather made up for her lack of connection or fortune. And with the continuing application of her presence over her visit, which was extended for two more weeks to compensate for the lack of interaction in the past one, Fitzwilliam Darcy became more and more inclined to the idea of Charlotte Aubrey as a daughter-in-law, so much so that when she and her sister left Elizabeth could not have mistaken the chance sighting of a sad smile crossing her husband's face as their carriage rolled away from the Knowlton gates.

Such a long visit and such promising plans for an engagement had given Sophia enough to talk about at her visiting for a long while yet, and her interfering hand was merciful for a little while, at least, in regards to the lives of her daughters. As the weather turned colder and most of the genteel families of Dorset returned to London for the start of the Season, however, Mrs. Aubrey's warm and cheering thoughts of marriage cooled and she again focused her efforts on the marriage prospects of Fanny.

Mrs. Darcy had mentioned how beneficial it would be to reside in London during the season, until Christmas at least, hoping that perhaps the marriage minded Mrs. Aubrey would see the half-invitation as a bit friendly advice on how to secure a husband rather than Elizabeth's secret desire to spend more time with her girls in order to find Fanny a husband herself. Mrs. Aubrey, fortunately, did not need her husband's deductive reasoning to maintain household order, and therefore found Mrs. Darcy's advice to be little more than exactly what it appeared as.

And so, acting on the advice of so prestigious a lady, she wrote to her relatives in London in the anxious anticipation of being able to reside with them for the Season, for the good of Fanny and Charlotte, of course. She did not hesitate to include that Charlotte was very nearly engaged, or as good as considered so, to one of the best-endowed bachelors in the country, Mr. George Darcy, a small fact that would so vex and annoy her nieces to fits of curious distraction that they would beg their mothers to allow her to visit just to see if it really was true.

Sure enough, not a single relation responded with a declining answer, so that Sophie had nearly half a dozen choices as for whom to stay with. She decided to remain with the one relation she knew would have invited her without the tantalizing detail of Charlotte's situation, her Aunt Polly, whose house in Montagu Square, while not one of the best in the neighborhood, was still close enough to the fashionable side of town to give the illusion of more money than the family had.

Aunt Polly was as pleased as a cat in the sunshine that her favorite niece had decided to spend the of the Season, with her in London, and she welcomed the Aubrey family with all due hospitality and kindness, eager to hear the news Sophie seemed so excited about in her letter. Christmas in London did not only mean a multitude of shopping trips and balls; it also meant that they would be able to see George.

Though the laudable George Darcy was certainly to keep his company plentiful at Number Seven in Montagu Square, it was the company of George Aubrey, Fanny and Charlotte's younger brother who was still at school, that was by far the crowning point of this holiday season. Having vehemently begged and implored his father never to even consider putting him into the service after a fantastically bad day whilst on an outing on his father's ship Surprise, George Aubrey was now attending university to train for a life as a physician, a profession that, while it did not guarantee him a life without ships, certainly assured him of the possibility of some profession on land. Though he wrote every month as a good son should, his sisters saw precious little of him during the academic year and were very keen to make sure that this year they might present their gifts to him in person instead of simply dropping them on the first mailcoach to London.

It was not yet Christmas, however, and the gifts they intended to give George needed still to be bought, so for the time being they were occupied more with receiving visitors and calling in return than dropping in on their brother.

Mrs. Darcy, who had removed to London some weeks previously, had left her card at Number Seven the day after she had heard the Aubrey twins were in London, and was delighted when they finally found time to call on her. The Darcy's London house was in a much more fashionable district than Aunt Polly's, though certainly not Pall Mall or Grosvenor Square, and when Sophie told her aunt of the especial relationship her daughter had with one of the occupants of Number Twenty One Eaton Place Aunt Polly was very impressed indeed.

"Charlotte has certainly done well for herself with this family," Aunt Polly was heard to say to Sophie as the four women stood in the receiving hallway of the Eaton Place house, waiting to be shown into the drawing room as their cloaks were taken and put away. Charlotte colored a little, but the application of Fanny's hand to her own reminded her that at least her sister would try to spare her from the shame of her family's constant bad manners.

Mrs. Darcy could hardly be expected not to notice such disrespectable behavior, but in the vein of good manners she paid it no mind, and focused her attentions on Fanny and Charlotte, enduring the occasional badly placed interjection from Sophie or Aunt Polly with wonderful aplomb. She promised that George should take them for a carriage ride as soon as he was able, "For the gardens at Hyde Park are very pretty in the fall, covered as they are now in leaves, and there will hardly be anyone about to interrupt your conversation," Elizabeth said in a genial voice, noting with pleasure the sparkle that sprang to Charlotte's face at the mention of time with George.

"We should like nothing better, Mrs. Darcy," Fanny said quickly, trying to cover her sister's flushed silence. "Speaking of him, is Mr. George here in London with you?"

"Yes, Miss Aubrey, indeed he is," Mrs. Darcy said graciously, smiling again at Charlotte. "He is visiting Captain Hornblower, who I am told has been detained in town owing to a new rash of problems with his ship. I did not attempt to understand it when Lord Hornblower tried to explain it to me, it is all terribly nautical and lost on me, but I do understand he is to remain in town for the winter, which is, of course, such a blessing to the young ladies of the area. My own nieces would be quite distraught without his company at the balls," Mrs. Darcy said, chuckling and taking a sip from her teacup while watching Fanny stir her spoon in aimless circles through her no-doubt now tepid tea. "How did you find Captain Hornblower, Miss Aubrey? I believe I introduced you while he was at our party in Kent," She asked quite innocently, and Fanny looked up from her stirring.

"I did not mark him especially closely on that occasion, Mrs. Darcy," Fanny said candidly, returning her gaze to her tea and the sitting room into silence as Elizabeth wondered exactly what kind of man would do for the second Miss Aubrey.

True enough to her promise, Elizabeth Darcy sent both the carriage and George around to Number Seven the next week, after the snow had just fallen and the view promised to be particularly picturesque. Bundled into more clothes than the girls thought they had heretofore owned, Sophie had packed her offspring out the door completely confident that they would not catch a chill in the vast wintery expanses of Hyde Park. Serving as chaperone, Mrs. Darcy herself somewhat amused at Mrs. Aubrey's efforts, but chose to say nothing and talked rather about what had happened in Dorset after they had parted ways in Kent.

It was a merry little outing: the laughter from their carriage carried quite well across the open lawns of Hyde Park, causing more than a few gentlemen out for morning rides to rein their horses in the direction of the carriage to say good morning to the young ladies inside. Some were George's acquaintances, and most were not, but every single one of them offered heir compliments to Fanny and Charlotte, which made both girls beam. George was not particularly taken with all these interruptions, save for one in particular, as it was made by a friend he had been anxious to see.

"Richard!" He called out, and the two gentlemen across the way turned from their conversation, one of them standing up in his stirrups to strain his eyes to see, finally taking a spy glass from his pocket to attempt to discern who was shouting at him. He snapped it shut and waved, turning his mount to trot towards them. "Trust him to carry a spyglass about," George said with a chuckle.

"George Darcy, what are you doing in a carriage? Weather's fine for riding," Richard said, waiting for his companion to catch up, another man who looked to be about George's age.

"I was taking the Miss Aubreys for a turn of the winter air," George said, gesturing to his two companions.

"Ah, I see. Beautiful view for two sets of very beautiful eyes, wouldn't you say so, Phil?" Richard said, turning to his companion.

"Indeed, Richard, as beautiful as I have seen," His companion Phil said amiably, smiling at Fanny with particular interest.

"Pray introduce us to your companion, Richard, I do not think I have his acquaintance," Elizabeth said, smiling at the two men.

"Where are my manners? I hope you will excuse the oversight, Mrs. Darcy, allow me to present to you Philip Norrington, of the West Indies. He is a family acquaintance; my father and his were very good friends when he had command of the West Indies Squadron some years back. Phil, this is Mrs. Darcy, mother of my friend George here, and the Misses Fanny and Charlotte Aubrey, of Dorset." Philip tipped his hat courteously, smiling at the twins and bowing shortly in his saddle.

"The West Indies?" Fanny asked, her curiosity piqued. "Pray, which part?"

"Jamaica, Miss Aubrey," Mr. Norrington said pleasantly. "My father is a merchant in Port Royal."

"And what brings you to London from Jamaica, Mr. Norrington? Business, perhaps?" Mrs. Darcy asked, getting a particular glint in her eye as she watched Fanny watch Philip.

"Yes, business indeed, Mrs. Darcy. I am here for the winter season to attend to some business matters of my father's, and to renew some old friendships in England. It was also my father's hope I should see some of the Ton while I was in London; we have little in the way of such divertissements in Jamaica, you see."

"Oh," Mrs. Darcy said shortly, sounding somewhat defeated, "I wish you luck in finding your divertissements, then, Mr. Norrington."

"What he really means, Mrs. Darcy, is that Phil's father hopes he'll catch a young woman's eye and get married," Richard Hornblower elaborated, eliciting giggles from the young women and a wry chuckle from George.

Mrs. Darcy smiled, as if she had not caught his meaning before Richard had explained it. "Well, you shall not lack for marriage candidates here, Mr. Norrington, it is the start of the season and all the young ladies are in town. Pray, where are you lodged?"

"I am staying with the Hornblowers, madam, as I have no real acquaintances other than Richard here," Mr. Norrington admitted.

"Ah, well, that is good; Lady Barbara keeps a very good table. You must bring him round to visit with us some time, Captain Hornblower, and have him tell us all about Jamaica," Mrs. Darcy said in that pleasant tone that indicates that an interview is at an end.

"I shall certainly do that, Mrs. Darcy. Good day to you all, George, Miss Aubrey, Miss Aubrey," Richard said, tipping his hat to each of them as Phil did the same and cantering off the same way they had come.

"How exciting, the West Indies," Mrs. Darcy said, settling back into the carriage. "He seemed like a very pleasant young man. We shall have to call on Lady Barbara and ask for her opinion on him," Mrs. Darcy said, quite pleased with the way the morning had gone. A quick word to the driver and they were on their way back to Montagu Square; the wind was beginning to bite rather bitterly for a woman's tastes.

* * *

Yes, you read that right. Norrington. Phil Norrington, for you lovely folks who have read my POTC fic "The Captain and the Commodore," is James and Meredith's grandson and is heir to the shipping empire James begins building in that story. That'll be explained better next chapter. If you haven't read that story, I'm told it's very good.

And I'm so sorry that so much of this story is prose-ical. I am a dunce at dialogue.


	6. Inquiries

Just a short chapter this time- I got P&P for Christmas and if I have my way, I think I'll go out and buy myself Vanity Fair….

Chapter Six. In which things are explained, more or less, and the twins have a tiff.

* * *

Lady Barbara was more than happy to provide the necessary intelligence on Mr. Phillip Norrington, being particularly well informed of his character as a product of his being her house guest. His father was a well to do merchant in the West Indies, being worth some four thousand pounds a year, and the family on a whole was excellently connected, though there was some speculation on his paternal grandmother's occupation prior to her marriage; common gossip suggested that she had been something of a scandal prior to marrying a man who had been one of the district's more eligible bachelors, a younger son of the Portsmouth Norringtons who went into the Navy to rise to the rank of Admiral, James Norrington.

This man, Lady Barbara informed Mrs. Darcy, had become a fast friend of Lord Hornblower's when they were first introduced, having once himself been in command of the West Indies squadron the Lord Hornblower was at the time in charge of, and had been the one to introduce his grandson to Richard, convinced that they might be good friends. The feeling had not been a bad one, and as children it was hard to separate the two.

Lady Barbara was also pleased to tell Mrs. Darcy that Philip had inquired after Fanny one night at dinner, displaying, she thought, a very particular interest; Elizabeth could not have been pleased more, and informed her neighbor and confidante of her plans regarding the marriage of fanny, illustrating her disapproval of Mrs. Aubrey's methods and her high hopes for a suitable partner for Fanny. It was, she said, detrimental to have such a woman for a mother, for her methods were not of the highest of classes, and she hoped that being seen enough with her might establish her reputation more soundly.

Lady Hornblower, who having no daughters of her own was naturally very interested in marrying off everyone else's, was more than happy to assist in her schemes, and made note to herself to send an invitation round to Montagu Square to invite the Aubrey girls to her dinner party (at which Mr. Philip Norrington would without doubt be in attendance.)

Philip, it seemed, had been making his own inquiries after Fanny before the dinner party as well, and he arrived at table fully equipped with a brief reading of her favorite books, all the latest political gossip and a pair of very willing ears to hear what her opinions on those subjects were. Heaven knows where he had found all of this, but Fanny, if not smitten, was certainly a fixture at any point in the room he was located at that evening, both before and after dinner. Certainly she was impressed, and indeed, remarked Lord Hornblower to a group of acquaintances that included both his son and Admiral Aubrey, who would not be impressed with any young man who could carry a conversation so deftly.

Jack had to admit grudgingly that this was indeed the case, having been in his youth one of those young men who was not particularly adept with his words, but in spite of any ill will he might have born towards Mr. Norrington for being a better romancer than he had been, there was still something about the merchant's son that he did not like, something that did not ring true in his character. Nevertheless, he did somehow give his consent to have Mister Norrington call some several days in the future.

Charlotte was practically in raptures for Fanny on the carriage ride home in the little hours of the morning. "He was so attentive to you, Fanny. You are perfectly matched; he has read all the same books you have, and shares the same views. Even you cannot think that is a bad thing, sister," she coaxed, smiling at Fanny, who frowned back.

"I thought he was very self-possessed and charming. He would make you handsome match, Fanny, with a father of four thousand a year," Charlotte went on.

"I'm not interested in his father, Lottie," Fanny reminded her twin pertly, only to get a glove thrown at her playfully for the effort.

--------

Again, a very short chapter. I apologize, but reader turn out isn't really helping me on this one. and then, of all the annoyances, I post little things I set no store in whatsoever and everyone loves them! Why?!


	7. Truth and Beauty

Chapter Seven- Truth and Beauty. In Which Mr. Phillip and Miss Fanny have an interlude of their own.

_Another very short chapter- So sorry!_

* * *

Mr. Norrington chose a rather unorthodox time to call on Number Seven, catching the inhabitants much off guard. It was just past eleven and the girls, having just breakfasted, were lounging in the sitting room pursuing their own interests; Charlotte was playing the piano while her aunt and mother sewed, and Fanny was nose-deep in a very old and very boring looking book, so much so that she did not hear Aunt Polly's footman announce that they had two visitors. When Philip and Richard made their entrance and said their hellos, Fanny nearly jumped from the settee in fright and quickly and nervously put aside the graying volume.

After exchanging greetings and the usual mid morning pleasantries about the journey over and the weather, Philip gravitated towards Fanny while Richard sat trapped on the divan regaling Aunt Polly about his time in the service, an act that would probably not have been difficult were it not for her bad ear and her constant interrupting, which was so omnipresent he could scarcely finish a sentence without her interjection. Charlotte caught one of Richard's imploring looks and graciously steered the conversation about to Aunt Polly's youth, which was filled with such fantastic tales that it was quite possible to allow her to talk to herself and not have her notice at all when no one paid any attention.

Philip got only a glance from Fanny as he brushed past her on the settee, and picked up the book she had hastily set on the end table before she could speak twice about it. He glanced at the spine and chuckled.

"Do many women your age read Homer in their spare time?" He asked with the laugh still fresh in his voice.

"No, I imagine not," Fanny said, embarrassed, trying to compose herself and hide her embarrassment behind what might be seen as a nervous smile.

"Στη νεολαία και την ομορφιά, η φρόνηση είναι αλλά σπάνιος," Phil quoted in a somewhat grandiose way. "In Youth and Beauty, Wisdom is but rare," He translated with a happy note in his voice, gazing at Fanny with a discomforting sort of fondness, as though he thought the words applied all too well to her.

"I am, as you can tell, reading it in translation," Fanny admitted. "My father did not see any use in retaining a tutor for the two of us on such subjects as classical languages."

"But to be reading it at all still recommends you in the highest of degrees!" Phil protested, sitting beside her with the book in his hands. "While the other girls your age are wasting their time with trumped up tales of modern Guineveres and Isoldes you are greedily guzzling the classics like a university scholar!" He leaned closer, moderating his voice to a lower volume as he added, "And I admire you greatly for that."

Fanny blushed and turned away from him, busying herself with rearranging the folds of her skirt so he would not see her color. "It is only a translation," she reiterated, but Charlotte, who was glancing in her sister's direction to see what progress was being made with Mr. Norrington, did not fail to notice that beneath her embarrassment, Fanny beamed with a pleasure that would never be hidden by the most artful of guiles. What Charlotte failed to notice was that beside her, Richard was wearing the saddest face a man could ever have contrived, and, had she bothered to glance his way, she would have noted the even greater sorrow in his eyes. It was quickly hidden when Philip asked him something, and did not reappear for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

I do love a good intrigue, don't you? Phil's quote is from the Pope translation of Homer, but Fanny is probably reading Chapman's. I hope the Greek registers correctly... 


	8. Out Calling

Chapter 8- In which Fanny and Charlotte get side-tracked, and an old acquaintance makes an appearance.

Dedicated to Katherine, who probably won't let me give up on this even if she has to cross a field of boiling lava to scold me into writing more. You all owe her big time.

* * *

Though the death of the late and great George the Fourth had put some damper on the convections and currents of London society, the Season was not a thing to be stopped by something as uninteresting as a death, even a royal one; indeed, it was passed around the rooms of Almack's by the Haute Ton that dying in June might have been the most sensible thing George had ever done in his entire life, as it disrupted nothing but the shooting season. So William, his brother, was crowned William the Fourth, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, King and Defender of the Faith, and the Season continued on in its stylized grandeur much as the various and seldom sundry titles of the ruler trundled off the tongue replete in their ornamental rigidness. 

As the season was just beginning to roll its ponderous, wedding-planning wheels when Fanny and Charlotte arrived in London, Mrs. Darcy was trying to find a way in which the two of them might be presented to their new monarch. The rules governing such events were strict and without compromise, and as Mrs. Darcy had not had the good fortune of being presented herself she could not undertake the honor of presenting the Aubrey girls. However, Lady Barbara, who had the good fortune both of having been presented and of being known in the highest of the society circles as the sister of the former Prime Minister Arthur Wellesley, agreed quickly to help in the nearly necessary task without hesitation.

Such a presentation would help the Aubrey girls' standing in the society circles, and would bring them into the reach of a much better class of people than Mrs. Aubrey's constant scheming and gossip ever could. Furthermore, it would allow George to formally propose to Charlotte, as he was of that class of young men who require the monarch's unofficial approval prior to marriage. And though Jack bemoaned the cost of court dresses and Sophie did not relish the idea of relinquishing her darling doves over for a single night without her supervision at a party, neither parent could supply a reasonable enough basis for their daughters not taking up the invitation of Lady Barbara and Mrs. Darcy.

There was much to be done in the three weeks before the illustrious day, and scarcely a day passed without some trip to a milliner, seamstress, or local relation anxious to know all the sordid details of planning such an affair.

"Fanny," said Charlotte one day as their hackney trundled past Regent's Park, "Is that not the Royal College of Physicians just beyond those trees?"

Fanny, who for the most part of the journey had been engrossed in her book, (The Swiss Family Robinson, gotten by way of Philip, who had recommended it highly), looked quickly out the window and nodded in assent.

"Why, we should visit Uncle Stephen!" Charlotte said in that joyful sort of tone one assumes on the receipt of unexpectedly good news. "Driver!" She gave directions for the driver to turn up St. Andrew's place and narrating the way until the carriage rolled up at the handsomely dressed sign above the door of Uncle Stephen's house that read, in fast fading green letters, "S. Maturin, Surgeon and Physician"

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," Stephen Maturin said, stepping into his parlor from the series of front rooms that served as the seat of his practice, wiping his hands on a cloth and handing it to Padeen before embracing his best friend's daughters. "George is not at home, I am afraid, if that is why you are calling."

"But we came to see you, Uncle Stephen," Charlotte said happily, "And Bridgid! Is she about?"

"She is," Doctor Maturin said evenly, dispatching the housemaid to fetch his daughter while Padeen informed any waiting patients that the good doctor might be a while before seeing them. "So," the doctor began, sitting down heavily in his favorite chair, "What brings the Aubrey girls to St. Andrew's Street?"

"Oh, we are out shopping, Uncle Stephen!" said Charlotte enthusiastically, giving Stephen reason enough to grin wryly.

"Shopping, really. Why ever would two young ladies in London for the season be doing that?" Maturin asked dryly, fixing his gaze on Fanny.

"We are to be presented," Fanny managed, somewhat ashamed of her sister's very forward tongue. "By the Lady Barbara Hornblower, who is an… acquaintance of ours," she finished, rather lamely.

"Ah, Hornblower, the Admiralty Lord. I'm sure your father is very proud." Uncle Stephen nodded in a sage sort of way, spared from attempting to continue a conversation on a subject he had little understanding of by the arrival of his daughter.

"Bridgid!" Charlotte said, rising from her chair to embrace the younger woman, who smiled thinly and managed a very shy hello, nodding to Fanny in her small and quiet way and dutifully kissing her father on the cheek. If Charlotte prior to her amour with George had been quiet, then Brigid at her birth had taken a vow of silence; she could scarcely be heard to utter an entire sentence in anyone's hearing except her father's, and when she did speak, it was as quiet and rabbit-like as a voice could come. Easily intimidated, her condition was one usually attributed to the unhappy circumstances of her mother's early death, and her father's long intervals at sea.

"You must tell Bridgid of your shopping expeditions, then," Stephen interjected, rising from his chair with the same world-weariness with which he had sat down in it. "I fear I would be of little interest on the subject. You will tell your father to call, of course," He amended at the door. "I imagine he is far out of his element in London. "

"Papa will be very glad of your invitation, Uncle Stephen. He is hard pressed to occupy himself without his charts and maps," Fanny said graciously. Stephen nodded, smiling, probably at the thought of a befuddled Captain Aubrey, and left the girls to their bits and bobs and gossip.

"Are you to get…new dresses?" Bridgid asked shyly, folding her handkerchief between her small white fingers, looking cautiously at Charlotte as if she feared what the young woman might think of her asking such a thing.

"Yes," supplied Charlotte with eagerness. "They are to be white, and we are to have white feathers in our hair. You should come with us, Bridgid, for today, if your father can spare you."

Bridgid shook her head. "No, thank you, Charlotte. I am …not feeling well today," she replied, using the time honored excuse of womanhood to beg her pardons from her family's friends. "Perhaps…I might call on you some other time, with Papa," She suggested, her slim little smile making both twins beam with pleasure.

"That would be lovely," Fanny said, patting Bridgid's cold hand. "We would be glad to have you."

"I suppose you must have a very busy day, I must not keep you. I will tell George that you called," Bridgid said, rising from her chair and showing them to the door. Fanny left their card so Doctor Maturin would know where they were staying if he was to call on the Captain, and Charlotte chatted all the way home about how well Bridgid was looking since they last saw her.

When Sophie inquired what had kept them away longer than had been expected, Charlotte launched into a very verbose explanation that finally culminated with the brief anecdote of stopping at Uncle Stephen's to call on Bridgid.

"You had a caller while you were out," Sophie said, handing over the card from the silver salver the maid presented to her. "Lady Barbara stopped by for a chat and I had to send her away quite rudely with the explanation that I didn't know quite where you were. Fortunately she is a very genteel woman and accustomed to such setbacks in her visiting. She has invited you to Almack's Tea Rooms on Friday, and I should die before you refuse such an invitation. To Almacks! Why, the toast of the Ton will be there and you, my lovelies, will be able to meet all of them," Sophie said amicably, much to the disappointment of her two daughters, who nodded and proceeded upstairs to put away their visiting clothes.

"Do you know what all this reminds me of, Lottie?" Fanny asked as she withdrew the lethal looking hatpin from her sister's coiffeur. "The county fair in Dorset every summer."

"Why ever that, Fanny?" Charlotte asked, taking off her hat and gazing wistfully at her dark curls for a moment before beginning to unbutton her dress to change to something more practical for the afternoon. "I see no relation between Almack's and the Dorset fair. They involve completely unrelated varieties of people."

"Yes, well, that's because the comparison doesn't refer to the people, Lottie. We're the pigs being shown off for judging," Fanny said with a cynic bite in her voice. "Mama was just beginning to stop talking about all this nonsense every minute of every day and then Lady Barbara had to set her off with Almacks."

"It will be great practice for the presentation," Charlotte advised, slipping into a cotton day dress to go downstairs and continue her needlepoint. "And perhaps you will catch a gentleman's eye, and he will come calling some afternoons so you do not feel lonely," she added with a little smile.

Fanny gave her a withering look. " I want to marry a man of intellectual substance, Lottie, not a duke's son whose only talents are shooting, sleeping and piquet. I feel certain those will be in short supply at Almacks," She said, closing her wardrobe with a pert snap and going downstairs to continue reading her book.

"A man like Mr. Norrington, perhaps?" Charlotte asked her mirror, giggling a little at the prospect.

* * *

Another episode that just sort of…happened. 

Ian: What are you talking about? You wrote it!

Yes, well, Stephen just sort of came and whispered in my ear and then I decided I wanted to bring him into the story earlier than had been previously planned.

Ian: (glares at Stephen) It had better not have been anything you couldn't repeat to me, Mister Maturin.

Stephen: (poker faced) I have nothing more to say on the matter.

Ian: (growls)

Boys, play nice.


	9. An Evening at Almack's

Chapter Nine- In which Fanny and Charlotte are fed to the lions, and suspicion is aroused about Phil.

* * *

Dedicated once more to Katherine, who asked nicely and watched Master and Commander on my suggestion to understand the story better. She makes my day, and I couldn't ask for a better roommate next year. :D

Though love had temporarily released Charlotte from the silence that had for so long held her a captive, it quickly resumed its strangle-hold as soon as her slippered foot set itself on the polished floor of Almack's Meeting Rooms. Fanny quickly lapsed into the same silence when she saw the crowd of elegantly dressed people, many of whom were looking at the two of them with as much disdain as people normally give beggars in the gutter. Lady Barbara sailed into the room, resplendent on Lord Hornblower's arm, and Richard, who was escorting both Aubrey girls, squeezed their hands reassuringly. "Ready to be fed to the lions?" He asked in a low voice, following his parents.

Fanny had put on a brave face for all of this, but the truth of the matter was that she was in no way ready for the constant studying looks and grim faces that watched her every step around the dancing floor. She thought she had been ready before their interview of the society Grande Dames, but they had soon crushed all notion of readiness from her mind as a cook squeezes a melon to test it for ripeness.

The seven women had stared down Fanny and Charlotte that Monday afternoon like soldiers staring down the barrel of a gun- and the twins had felt like they were facing an entire artillery battery.

Lady Barbara had left them, waiting in the vestibule while the interview took place. Though no words were yet spoken, Fanny knew that opinions were already being formed behind those blueblooded, rich faces. If Lady Barbara, a lady of very good, if slightly unknown until recently, family, had invited them, then they must have had some merit beyond their pretty faces. They had been introduced as being daughters of the distinguished Admiral Aubrey, which might have boded well for them were it not for the earlier chorus of rumors that had surrounded Jack Aubrey's occasional philandering. One of the women lifted up her lorgnette to peer at them, (or their gowns, it was hard to tell which,) trying to distinguish if they had paid proper attention to their toilette. No one would be let into Almacks who did not first prove that they were properly dressed.

"Your mother, Sophie," One of them began. The countess of Castlereagh, Fanny thought to herself. "What was her maiden name?"

"Williams, ma'am," Charlotte supplied. Fanny was too busy thinking to speak.

"Of the Plymouth Williamses?" The countess continued.

"I am not certain, ma'am. She was from Plymouth," Charlotte said nervously, with a glance at Fanny. Fanny said nothing.

"You have an Aunt Diana, your mother's cousin, recently deceased, do you not?" The countess went on.

"Yes," Charlotte said, bewildered.

"That is the same family. You are neither of you engaged to be married?" Another woman, Mrs. Burrel, asked.

Fanny glanced quickly at Charlotte, unsure of how she would even begin answer that question. Charlotte, however, soldiered on. "My sister is not, ma'am, but I have an unannounced understanding with a gentleman of the highest recommendations."

"An unannounced understanding?" Mrs. Burrel asked, seeming scandalized.

"He has not yet formally proposed, ma'am, but it is expected by his family and mine that he will do so after I am presented," Charlotte explained.

"Ah," Mrs. Burrel said, noting something down on the paper in front of her. "And the gentleman in question, Miss Aubrey? What is his family, his profession?"

"He is Mr. George Darcy, of the Derbyshire Darcys, and at present he is a gentleman only," Charlotte said. The women nodded silently, but already there were frowns on some faces, the smell of new money turning away some noses inclined only to the sweet roses of the aristocratic variety.

"Your sister, is she mute?" A woman with a hint of German accent asked.

Charlotte, taken aback, glanced at Fanny, finally broadsided by the questioning.

"I have complete faculty of speech, Princess," Fanny said resolutely. "I have not yet answered because my sister was doing an adequate job for the both of us."

The Princess Esterhazy nodded, a slight smile forming on her lips, and glanced back down at her notes.

"You are from Dorset, is that not correct?" The countess of Jersey asked sharply.

"Yes, your ladyship," Fanny said, wanting to prove now that she was, indeed, not mute. "My father's family has owned land there for several generations."

"Your grandfather Aubrey was the same Aubrey distinguished in the army?" The countess asked.

Fanny thought for a moment. "Perhaps you are mistaken, ma'am. My grandfather was a general in the army, but his service was never …distinguished, as you say. He was for some time in his later life a member of parliament for Dorset."

"At least she is honest," was murmured from one mouth, at least, and more notes were scribbled. "If nothing else," was quickly amended under someone's breath.

"Miss Aubrey, will you not dance with me?" Richard asked, drawing Fanny out of the nightmarish memory and back to the present.

"Is it done to dance here with a man you are not betrothed to?" Fanny asked, "I fear I might be thrown out for stepping on someone's toes. They tell me that it has quite gone out of style."

Richard laughed. "I do not believe it was ever in style, Fanny!" he said, smiling broadly. Fanny took his hand and let him lead her to the dancers, picking up the figure to dart in and out of circles and chains of people, stepping in time to the music.

When the dance had finished, Fanny dragged herself away from the whirling skirts and coat-tails to fetch a glass of punch, smiling with exhilaration. Richard followed her, procuring a chair for her and guarding it as she poured her punch.

"I should love to know how your mother does this, Richard," Fanny said, shortening her smile quickly when she saw several matrons peering at her distastefully from several feet away. "It is though I am on trial to be hanged," she amended, finding no friendly face in the crowd to look at but Richard's.

"Do not make the mistake of supposing these parties are any easier for mother and father, Fanny. It is very hard going for both of them."

"Really?" asked Fanny, astonished, watching Lord Hornblower across the room. "I should never have guessed."

"Oh, yes. Father is not always as jovial as you see him- he is very out of sorts with large groups of people. He is not a party-going type at all, though Mother has changed him a little, he tells me. And as for her, this recent business with Uncle Arthur has left her a little frayed. It is not often the prime minister is boo'd from office in such an uncivil fashion."

"That was rather sad about your uncle, Richard," Fanny admitted, still a little unused to the fact that the former prime minster Arthur Wellesley was, in fact, Lady Barbara's brother and Richard's godfather. "How is he faring now?"

"Well enough, I suppose. Aunt is finding things for him to do about their house. He has always been such a man of action and responsibility that to not have anything to do seems too much like he is useless to the world, and that is a notion, Fanny, which no man, hero of Waterloo or not, can abide," the captain mused, his face falling into a melancholic frown.

"I hope you do not feel useless here, Richard," Fanny supplied, leaning a little on his hand, resting on the arm of her chair, in the most platonic and reassuring fashion.

Richard quickly put away the melancholy and smiled again for his companion. "I should hardly feel useless when I am constantly guarding you from the lions of society, Fanny."

Fanny might have blushed but that Phil had appeared in her sights a distance away from them, and his presence had so captured her attention she did not quite grasp the tenderness with which Richard uttered his last thought. She rose quickly from her chair so that he was sure to see her, and when his gaze crossed the crowd near them, his eyes lit up; he made his way through the press to greet Fanny and Richard, smiling.

"Fanny! I had thought not to see you here, more pity on me," Phil apologized. "Forgive a callous youth for underestimating your graces," he offered in a grandiose gesture of begging for forgiveness.

"I hardly think that it was my graces alone that got me past the examining panel, Phil," Fanny joshed, her cheeks coloring a little. "You are forgiven."

"Good," said Phil jovially. "I do not know what I would do if you had not."

"Probably carve his heart out for you to devour as a penance for himself," Richard said in bitter jest.

"If you want for my heart, it is yours, dear girl," Phil said, laying his hand to an imaginary dagger at his side.

"Phil, stop, they are staring," Fanny said, blushing more at Phil's almost outright declarations of love than the admonishing stares of the matrons.

"Yes, Phil, whoever you curried favor with to get a ticket in might wipe the shine off you and show you for the man you really are," Richard remarked with a bite in his voice.

Phil looked at his friend with a slightly tipsy, challenging smile on his face. "Are you jealous, Richie? "

Richard scowled. "You, Phil? Why would I be jealous of **you**?" he asked harshly, dismissing himself from the conversation and disappearing into the crowd.

"Is everything all right between you and Richard, Phil?" Fanny asked, watching Richard's back fade into the dozens of similarly attired men.

"Oh, yes, we'll manage. It's nothing, really," Phil said amiably, putting his smile back on for Fanny's benefit. "Shall we take a turn about the dance floor, Miss Aubrey?" He asked, offering his arm in an attempt to drive the episode from Fanny's thoughts, which, for the moment, he did.

Charlotte, however, did have her sister's luck with companions, for her own gentlemen could not be in attendance tonight and she was forced to make do with Lord and Lady Hornblower, who at present were very interested in the card tables. Lord Hornblower was famously good at whist, and some of the younger bucks at the party were very keen to challenge him to cards. He had accepted, and Lady Barbara and Charlotte were now engaged at observing what was turning out to be a very cutthroat game, Lord Hornblower and Sir Jordan Eisely, an acquaintance of his, against Lord Villiers and his son, the Viscount Jougette. Sir Jordan seemed a very aimable fellow who had introduced himself before the game had begun, but the father and son Villiers were everything that was to be expected in aristocrats of this room; cold, calculating, and very, very proud. The Viscount, who had a very good view of Charlotte from where he sat, wasted none of his opportunity in watching her as the game went on, a curious and partially mischevious look in his eyes. When the game was finished, and Villiers and son had paid up (they had lost quite a purse), the Viscount asked for a introduction to Lady Barbara and her ward, which Lord Hornblower was happy to provide.

"Lord Villiers, Viscount, my wife, Lady Barbara Hornblower, and Miss Charlotte Aubrey, a friend of the family," Lord Horatio said.

"Enchantee," the Viscount said, kissing Charlotte's hand in the old style. "From where do you come, Miss Aubrey? I do not think I have ever seen you at Almack's before." His voice was soft, cultured, and snobbish to the core. " Aubrey…it sounds very French. Belgium, perhaps, or my family's own beloved France? I recall there was an Aubriye in the South; a relation, perhaps?" he hinted.

Charlotte did not quite know what to say. "I am sorry, Viscount, but I am not French, nor do I believe my family is from France. My father owns land in Dorset."

'Owns land in Dorset' was a polite way of saying that he was merely a gentleman, and after that, the mischevious sparkle left the Viscount's eyes. He nodded, a false smile back on his handsome face, and begged away from their conversation, going to a knot of women in the corner which must have included his mother. Charlotte, vexed by the change, asked Lady Barbara once they were out of ear shot of the men, glancing over at the corner where the Viscount had gone, which was now glaring at her in a very disconcerting fashion.

"My dear, Lord Villiers and family are famously in need of a rich marriage to save the family estates, and the Viscount will take anyone, whatever her station may be, as long as she has money. I am afraid neither you nor your sister are quite within his price range at the moment. Besides, practically the whole Ton knows you're almost engaged to George Darcy, and the rest, I expect, are being told as we speak," Lady Barbara said, glancing around the room. Indeed it was- dozens of eyes were fixed on them, and some were not adept as Viscount Jougette in hiding their distaste for new money, or no money at all.


	10. Taking Tea

Chapter 10- Taking Tea.

In which the ball at Almacks is recounted, its results discussed, and an invitation is extended.

Props to my two new reviewers, Meg and White Atropos (love the name, by the way, very Hornblower-esque) for prompting me to put up this next chapter. You guys made the last few weeks just that much brighter, and I thank you again. This next chapter is kind of short, but the next one will be loads longer to make up for it.

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The ball was, in the opinions of Lady Barbara at any rate, a great success for the girls, a fact she did not hesitate to share with Mrs. Darcy, who had wanted to know every detail of the night's adventures. It was she who once more assured Charlotte and Fanny (at tea the next day at Eaton Place) that in spite of the frigid reception in the card room and the patronizing stares of the gentry they had been a great credit to themselves.

"There are some young ladies in this age who cannot converse with anyone, and in consequence find themselves struck dumb in front of the reviewing committee," Elizabeth was saying. "Your clearness of speech does you a great service in that regard, for Almacks is fond of conversation, since there is little in the way of food to amuse those who do not dance or gamble."

"I still cannot help but think of all those people staring at Mr. Norrington," Fanny said sadly, staring at her teacup in a forlorn sort of way. Lady Barbara looked puzzled.

"Mr. Norrington was in attendance?" she asked, curious.

Fanny looked up and nodded. "Yes, I thought you had bought his ticket," she explained. "Was he not invited with you?"

Lady Barbara shook her head. "Indeed not! Still, he is a charming young man, and has made many friends since his arrival in London. He is now invited out quite often, you know. It would not surprise me if one of them bought him a ticket as a guest."

Fanny thought about this for a moment, sipping her tea in thoughtful silence as Charlotte inquired politely about Mrs. Darcy's evening at home.

"You are most kind to ask, Miss Aubrey, as your own evening was far superior to my own. No, my husband's aunt is in town, and we were invited to see her. I hope, Miss Aubrey, for your sake, when you get married meeting your husband's family will not be nearly as tedious for you as it is for me," she said with a wry smile.

"Indeed, I hope not, either. It would be terribly inconvenient to have a spiteful mother in law," Charlotte said. She thought about this for a moment, and then ventured, "I would hope she was much like you, Mrs. Darcy, for I admire you very greatly."

The thought made Mrs. Darcy smile with a somewhat muted delight, and she beamed at Charlotte. " You are far too easy with your flattery, Miss Aubrey, but I thank you. I have just as many vices as virtues, as either my son or my husband will tell you."

"But her virtues far outstrip her vices, let me assure you of that," Mr. Darcy, who was just entering the room with his son in tow, said in his deep and warm voice, laying his hand on his wife's shoulder. Charlotte could not help but smile a little wider as Elizabeth laid her own hand on her husband's and smiled up at him, an unacted kiss shimmering in the air between them. If she could find a man with whom to share just a half, nay, a fourth of that affection she could not be happier!

"Has my mother thoroughly interrogated you enough yet on the results of your first foray into the den of lions that is London Society?" George asked with a fond smile, remaining behind the settee where his mother and Lady Barbara sat, not wanting to track anything from his boots onto the sitting room rug. The sight of him made Charlotte glow with happiness after being so rudely received by the men of the ton last night, men who had only more polish and shine to outrank themselves against George, who was their equal and even their superior in matters of manners, money, and affection.

"I do not rightly know if she has asked all her questions," Charlotte admitted, looking to Mrs. Darcy for some direction on the subject.

"I suppose I can forfeit you to my son if that is what he desires," Mrs. Darcy said, watching Charlotte rise from her chair and exit the room on George's arm, privately signaling a maid to follow them for propriety's sake.

"I hope my mother has not bored you," George said once they were free of the doors of the sitting room and out in the hall.

"I could never find your mother boring, George," Charlotte said as he pulled her under the cover of the stairs, a space open enough not to invite gossip but small enough to give him some minute measure of intimacy and privacy.

"I am glad you should say that," George said, relieved, "For we are having a ball of sorts in a few days, here, and I…should like nothing better than for you and Fanny to come. There will be some family members in attendance, unfortunately. My great aunt, as I think you have heard, is in town, and her daughter, as well as my Aunt Georgiana, who is very excited about seeing you again." George paused, trying to think of how to put this. "She…she very much liked you, when you met at Knowlton. I do not know if anyone has told you that."

"No, it is the first I had heard," Charlotte said, smiling up at George.

"My whole family is very fond of you," George admitted, holding both of Charlotte's hands. "In spite of …quite a lot of things. I just thought ...you might like to know that."

Charlotte clasped George's hands, peering at the sitting room door, which was opening now to let Fanny and Lady Barbara exit; it was apparently time to go. "I thank you for that, George. It means the world to me."

"I know," George said with a smile. He seemed to be trying to make up his mind on something and then, quick as you like, kissed her on the cheek and made his exit into the private part of the Darcy residence. Charlotte stood under the stairs quite in shock, the touch of his lips burning a flush into her cheeks.

"Charlotte?" Fanny called. "It is time to go," she said, motioning to the footman with her cloak. Quickly Charlotte pulled herself together, trying to wipe the blush from her cheeks as she went to Fanny, bidding Mr. and Mrs. Darcy a good day.

Elizabeth could not help but chuckle as she watched Charlotte's face redden, only supposing on what her son had done to make her blush so. His impetuousness, she was sure, he got from her side of the family; no Darcy would do anything as rash as kiss a girl he was not formally engaged to.

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The next chapter is one of my favorites, and I hope you folks all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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	11. Dinner is Served

Chapter Eleven- In which some new friends and old enemies are introduced, pleasentries are exchanged, and dinner is served.

* * *

There are some people who carry with them at all times a great gray raincloud with which they like to overshadow parties and kill any sense of good mood that exists in a room, and Lady Catherine DeBourgh was one such woman. An aristocrat who had only become more opinionated and harsh as she had aged, she was the sort of woman that no one forgets to invite to a party but everyone dreads coming – and for good reason. The only person she had ever been recorded to say a good word for was her husband and he, poor soul, had died before too many good words were ever said. She was the bane of Mrs. Darcy's existence, for she had never quite forgiven the young woman from Hertfordshire for stealing her nephew away from her own daughter, Anne, but as the years had worn on the sting of Lady Catherine's venomous comments had lost its strength, and was now merely a passing annoyance, something to be tolerated and then tossed away as easily as one disposes of the day's dirty bathwater.

"Mrs. Darcy, I hope you have dusted the chairs this time. When I was here last season you could see the dust on the armrests," Lady Catherine said in way of a greeting, kissing her nephew's wife on both cheeks in the French manner but with none of the usual warmness and friendly attitude that is noted among the people of that country.

"I attended to it personally, Lady Catherine," Mrs. Darcy said with a false smile, following her houseguest into the drawing room.

"If I were in charge of this house, Mrs. Darcy, there would not be such deficiency in the servants and they would not need supervision for such a simple task as dusting," Lady Catherine said coldly, sitting down. "Who are they?" She asked, pointing a fan at Fanny and Charlotte with distinct disdain in the gesture, looking for all the world as though the twins were an especially disturbing picture, or a piece of furniture placed just where it might vex Lady Catherine personally.

"Oh, Lady Catherine, this is Miss Fanny Aubrey, and Miss Charlotte Aubrey, of Woolcombe in Dorsetshire. They are in town with their mother, Mrs. Sophie Aubrey, who is there in the corner, and their father, Admiral Jack Aubrey, who is at present with Mr. Darcy in the billiard room."

"Jack? Never trust a man named Jack, Elizabeth, it's a common name for common men." Lady Catherine sermonized. "Anne! Come in and sit next to me, here, on the settee, dear. And tell Anatole he may go upstairs and do as he pleases."

Fanny and Charlotte had been so distracted by the impressive show of Lady Catherine's bigotry that they had not noticed that behind her stood another two people- her daughter, Anne, and the man who was presumably Anne's husband, the one Lady Catherine had called Anatole. Indeed, it was very easy to forget Anne in the company of her mother- one was so remarkable and the other so unremarkable that it was far easier to overlook Anne entirely than take the time to try and find her behind her mother's blustering. A shy and sickly woman, she was without any sparkle of vigor that might have granted her anything more than pitying smiles from those in her company. Her very somber attire, which might have suited a dowager in mourning better than the still-married woman she was, did not do much to help alleviate the rather gothic and simply depressing mood that constantly surrounded her.

Anne came and sat where her mother told her to, and Lady Catherine continued with her inspection of the Aubrey sisters. "Aubrey, you said? From Woolcombe in Dorsetshire? I've heard of the place. Your grandfather- used to be an MP. Married a milkmaid. The sort of people she lets in this place, you'd think it was the little backwater country house she came from instead of the third most fashionable district in London. If Fitzwilliam had married Anne there'd be none of this nonsense around here at all. Oh, you know my daughter, of course, Countess Kuragin. Married to Count Anatole Kuragin, you will have heard of him, he was distinguished in the Russian campaign. Being a count in Russia means a great deal more than it does here, she is considered more of a Marquess than a Countess in the English sense."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Charlotte said with a hopeful smile, thanking God that at least when she got married she would not still be tied to her mother as Anne so clearly was. Anne managed a little smile back, but any influence she might have had over the conversation stopped when her mother started speaking again, and she shrank back into the couch, invisible once more.

"So, Miss Aubreys, have you been long in London?" Lady Catherine asked, clearly less than impressed that the girls from 'the backwater country house' were all she was going to have for company before any of the other guests arrived.

"Almost a month, madam," Fanny supplied, "since the middle of November."

"And do you enjoy it here, in London?" Lady Catherine asked, for civility's sake alone.

"Very much, madam," Fanny replied. "The company is much more interesting here than in Dorset."

"Hrmph, I should think so," Lady Catherine said. "You are here to be presented, I assume. And who will be presenting you? Surely not your mother!" she said, casting a look at Sophie in the corner.

"Lady Barbara Hornblower, madam," Charlotte responded. "I am told she is attending this evening."

"Lady Barbara? She was a Wellesley, was she not, before her marriage? All that business with the Prime Minster has been simply ridiculous; Charles Grey is much better suited to the post. If my husband were still alive, he would have been better, but alas, the poor man has been dead these forty years."

"I'd have died, too, if I had to put up with that woman," Fanny said very softly into her sister's ear- Charlotte stifled a giggle into her handkerchief and tried to look serious.

"Do you find something funny, Miss Aubrey?" Lady Catherine asked with a vicious bite in her tone, and Charlotte composed herself quickly.

"No, madam, nothing at all. The recent plights of the government are a very serious business indeed."

"Plights of the government," Lady Catherine repeated, as if she were shocked at what she was hearing. "Politics is not a subject fit for young ladies to talk about, Miss Aubrey. I am shocked you should bring it up. My own daughter would never be caught talking about anything half so controversial. It is my fervent opinion that women should restrict their remarks to fashion and the weather; the female mind is 

not suited for such strong stuff as politics and military ventures. Why, just last week at the Duchess of St. Alban's party her son was talking of possibly seeing a woman in politics in the future. I assured him that such a thing was as impossible and ridiculous as putting his own mother on the stage. And do you know what? The young buck had the audacity to suggest that perhaps there would be a day when acting would not be such a shameful career either! The very idea! You can only imagine what I had to say to the Duchess when I saw her later concerning the education her son is receiving."

"She must have been very thankful for the instruction," Fanny said with a serious look, though Charlotte knew that inside her head Fanny must have been laughing too; she was one of those modern women who do not care what they discuss as long as they are learned about it.

Charlotte and Fanny were spared further discussion on the subject by the timely arrival of Lady Barbara, followed quickly by Mrs. Bingley and her two daughters, who distracted Lady Catherine's critical eye long enough that she might continue her barrage of disapproval in their direction on the subject of their dresses, which were, apparently, too low cut and too bright for a dinner party.

The bell for dinner saved all from more idle chatter in the drawing room, and the gentlemen returned to escort the ladies into the dining room. Georgiana must have arrived while Lady Catherine was busy discussing the downfalls of Victoria and Caroline's dresses with Mrs. Bingley, for Charlotte saw her only when the party began moving towards the dining room.

"May I?" George asked, holding out a hand. "Everyone else on the table of precedence has a partner already, and I think my cousins will not mind. Unless, of course, Fanny came out first, in which case I may have to escort her as the older of the two of you."

Charlotte blushed a very deep crimson and Fanny held up her hand to stifle a loud and unladylike guffaw. "Go on, George, take her. Though, mind you, I am the older," Fanny said when she had recovered enough to speak.

"What has happened to your aunt, George? She is dressed as though someone has died!" Charlotte said quietly.

"I'm afraid someone has died." George revealed. "My uncle the Marquess dropped dead at breakfast several days ago of a heart failure. They are saying it was the paper that killed him, news about Poland's war for independence against Russia or something like that. It is a shame, really- he was so fond of Aunt Georgie, despite the difference in ages. And he was always a card at dinner parties. I suppose you've be introduced to Lady Catherine?"

"I really can't see how you're related to her," Charlotte said truthfully.

"Uncle was always good at putting her in her place, too. And the funny thing about it was, she always seemed to consider it a put-down from him as a compliment of the highest order. Comes from being lower down the peerage charts, I suppose. Her family's only got a Baronetcy," George confided, letting Charlotte go to her place.

When all were situated, Mr. Darcy rose from his seat, his glass in hand. "First, I think, a toast," he began. "To our new king, William, and the hope that his reign will be a long and fruitful one. Gentlemen, Ladies, The King!"

"The king!" Chorused the assembly, the three Navy men present adding, as was their custom, "God bless him!"

"And additionally," George began, after all had quaffed a little for the first toast, with a perfectly straight face, "to all the men fortunate to serve our new sovereign in his civil service. May their hearts be steady, their minds keen, and their pockets unlined with our tax money."

The room burst into laughter, and the wine drunk as good-naturedly as any toast ever made at a dinner party. The toasts drunk and the wine poured again, the dinner began, first with soup, a potage Parmentier, the footman explained, French in origin with potatoes and onions, thick and rich and delicious. Then the other dishes arrived, served in the French manner, all at once. Ducks stuffed with turnips and leeks for the game course, veal pie with a crust so golden it might have been made out of gold guineas, and a rather strange casserole that the footman explained was in place of the fish, as it contained both cod and shrimp.

"Yes, but what is it?" Lady Catherine asked, casting a critical eye on the dish in front of her, which in addition to the fish contained vegetables and rice.

"I believe I know, Lady Catherine," Lord Hornblower interrupted, sinking the serving spoon into the mélange and spooning a large portion onto his plate. "It is called jambalaya, and it is a Creole dish- from the former French colonies in Louisiana. I tried some while I was on station in Jamaica, and took the receipt with me when I returned to home, where I gave it to Mrs. Darcy after one of my own parties," Lord Hornblower explained. Lady Catherine nodded but made no move to have the footmen dish her any. "You'll find it quite spicy, as I recall," Lord Hornblower went on. "The slaves, I remember, love spicy food."

"This is slave food, Lord Hornblower?" Lady Catherine asked, appalled.

Lord Hornblower tried quickly to explain his mistake. "No, Lady Catherine, not at all, it is served in some of the best houses in New Orleans! It has its origins in the slave quarters, that is all, just as the veal pie here had its start in the British workman's pockets."

"I think it's positively barbaric they still have slaves in the Americas," Georgiana inserted from down the table. "Thank god for Wilberforce and his camp for getting us off that ship," she said stoutly.

"Indeed, Marquess, it is barbaric, but it is also very much a part of their life, moreso than here. We do not have vast crops of cotton and tobacco growing outside our doors that depend on slave labor to plant and harvest. We are lucky the law did not come to blows on the resolution of that issue in this country- I feel certain the only way America will resolve slavery is with all-out war."

The table was remarkably silent, no one wanting to speak any longer on that particular subject but having nothing else to discuss. The footmen brought out another dish, and Anatole's eyes lit up before the 

poor man could even announce the name. "Ah, salade Bagration! Please allow me, Mrs. Darcy, to compliment you on your excellent choice in cooks, for anyone sensible enough to serve salade Bagration when a Russian is in attendance at dinner is well worth keeping!"

"I'll be sure to tell Mrs. Wilson you enjoyed it," Mrs. Darcy said, clearly relieved that another subject had been breached.

"Who's this Bagration fellow and what did he do to get a salad named after him?" Henry, who was sitting across from Anatole and the celebrated salad, wondered aloud, eyeing the dish suspiciously as it passed him by.

The Count looked appalled, and he sighed theatrically. "Oh, Monsieur Bingley, it pains me that you ask! To not know General Bagration in my country is like…not knowing Nelson in England! He was tres magnifique en bataille, a great general. It is because of him that Russia is not in the hands of Le Monstre Corse, Napoleon!"

"It takes some getting used to the French accent around Count Kuragin," George whispered to Fanny as Anatole continued. "In Russia, you see, French is the language of high society and Russian the language of the peasants, which makes everything very confusing. His English is much better now; I remember him speaking very bad English when I was child. 'Yew playez le piano very weel, Meeses Marquess… Zis eez aaysaylent pai, Meeses Darrcee,' George imitated, his face contorting into a caricature and making both Fanny and Aunt Georgiana, who was sitting on his other side, laugh into their napkins and trying not to draw attention to themselves.

"George, behave yourself," his aunt chided him, taking a bite of her veal with ladylike ease. George sighed and tucked into his dinner, and Fanny, deprived of that amusement, turned her attention to lady Catherine, who was talking with her father.

"And do you farm much at Woolcombe, Admiral Aubrey?" Lady Catherine was asking.

"The land is much better suited to herding, Lady Catherine, so we keep sheep instead," Admiral Aubrey explained. "Since the peace I am home a great deal more than I am used to, and I would make a poor farmer if ever put to the task. We grow some vegetables and a small amount of timothy for winter fodder for the sheep, but that is all."

"Oh, then that is quite good. The image of the gentleman farmer is quite in vogue now, you know, and men with estates enough should see that they are farmed."

"So," Phil asked, leaning over a little to talk with Fanny, who was seated next to him, "Have you finished the Iliad yet?"

"I found it very stimulating," Fanny said, daintly cutting her duck.

"And what are you planning on reading next?" Phil asked, interested. Richard, watching the conversation from the other side of the table, was following it with interest, too, marooned between the discussion on farming on his left and the ladies on his right chatting about the plays that were to be seen in London this season.

"Oh, I was thinking of Paul Clifford, perhaps, or Ivanhoe," Fanny said blithely, naming two books she would not be caught dead with. "Something more contemporary," she added, gauging his reaction.

Phil had the good sense to look appalled. "Paul Clifford? That insipid waste of paper by the politican who has the gall to call himself a writer? Oh, please, Fanny. Don't tell me you actually intend to read that nonsense. "It was a dark and stormy night…" Phil verbalized, his eyes wide open in an eerie manner, his hands clawing at Fanny as though he were some evil spirit come to haunt her.

Fanny was trying hard to keep herself from laughing. "I think it'd be very exciting to read."

Phil snorted. "Exciting? In ten years no one will have remembered that line. Dark and stormy night indeed. I've never heard anything so disgustingly overdone. No, you should read something with a little more …verve. The Arabian Nights, perhaps."

"Mr. Norrington, did I just hear you recommend the Arabian nights to Miss Aubrey as suitable reading material?" Lady Catherine interjected; she seemed to have an ear only for the sensational and the scandalous, as she had been roundly deaf to the conversation Mr. Darcy and Admiral Aubrey were having on the best way to keep sheep pastures and had ignored several attempts to include her in the conversation by feigning bad hearing.

"You did, ma'am," Phil owned, taking a sip of his wine.

"Miss Aubrey, pray do not pay any attention to Mr. Norrington's book selection; the Arabian nights is not suitable for a young lady to read. Full of eastern barbarity and oriental decadence, which I find inspires in young ladies no ideas worth cultivating. Lies and fairy tales, that's all those stories are," Lady Catherine maintained stoutly.

"My father had a friend who only recently returned from the far east, Lady Catherine, and his stories were very much filled with oriental decadence, as you call it. Papa," Fanny called across the table, pulling her father's attention away from the rigors of his discussion on sheep. "Did Captain Pullings not speak to us about his travels in the Far East when he returned in March?"

"Indeed he did, Fanny," Admiral Aubrey supported.

"Perhaps we could press you for an anecdote, Admiral?" Mr. Bingley inquired. "You have, I assume, also traveled a great deal yourself."

Jack sat up in his chair and took a long sip from his wine glass, draining it. "Though I have never been to India myself, ma'am, I have heard stories from men whom I trust completely to relay the truth of things to me, and their stories are just as fantastic as any in the Arabian nights. Pullings told us of a Durbar he had attended while at Lord Bentinck's court in Dehli, I believe. It's a ceremonial council that the Governor General hosts where all the princes and rajahs and what have you pay homage to the crown's representative. He remembers seeing some of the most fantastic jewels there, men covered in diamonds with emeralds the size of a child's fist in their turbans. And the elephants!" Jack's eyes lit up- the entire table was listening now, and he was in a ripe mood for story-telling. "They have little thrones that they set upon the elephants and ride about in, and some of these thrones were magnificent, covered in 

gold and cloth of silver. And their palaces are unparalleled in size and grandeur, Tom tells me. One of the last great emperors in India, Jehovah,or Jeru…salaam or something like that, built a great palace out of white marble for his wife. It is a mausoleum, actually. They say that when it was finished, he had all the men who designed it and built it executed so that no one could build anything like it again."

"Barbaric," Lady Catherine interjected again, returning to her meagerly filled plate; whether the food did not agree with her for gastronomic reasons or aesthetic and situational ones, she was sure to pronounce displeasure whatever she was served. "I suppose this great marble palace pales in comparison to St. James' Palace. Your friend must be exaggerating; nothing can outstrip the grandeur of British architecture."

"If you were ever to venture to India, Lady Catherine, I think you would find much there that outstrips British ingenuity," Lord Hornblower said nonchalantly. "Wasn't it the Romans who built the coliseum with nothing more than a few simple cranes and ladders? And did not the Greeks build the temples after which we fashion our own houses in the same manner? Simple people they may be, Lady Catherine, barbaric, if you must, but do not underestimate their capability in erecting monuments."

"And the Taj Mahal, madam, is a sight not easily forgotten," Richard interjected.

"I suppose that you have seen this white mausoleum as well, Captain Hornblower," Lady Catherine said spitefully, glancing down the table at him.

"I have seen several paintings, madam, and have also heard friends recall the sight to me. I do not know that there is anything in England to compare," Richard said fairly, taking a large bite of his jambalaya.

"Then you have had a very poor showing of England, Captain Hornblower," Lady Catherine opined.

Conversation returned to its singular circles until the dessert was brought in, a towering cream and cake confection that Mr. Darcy introduced as Zuppa Inglese.

"Papa, you look as though you went looking for a lost penny and found a gold guinea!" Fanny remarked from across the table, amused by her father's sudden interest in the dessert.

"Zuppa Inglese, my girl, was invented by the Neapolitans for Nelson after the battle of the Nile, and it was one of his favorite desserts," Admiral Aubrey explained to his daughter after taking a hefty slice of the rum-soaked, whipped cream laden concoction.

"Did you eat it with him, sir?" Captain Hornblower asked. "Captain Mowett used to tell us your salt story, sir," he specified to the Admiral, "about how you served with Nelson and dined with him twice. I was wondering if on either of those occasions you ate Zuppa Inglese."

"I did, Captain Hornblower, and if this specimen is as good as that, you are all in for quite a treat," Jack said, tucking into his cake with zeal and smiling at the first rich bite. "My continued compliments to your cook, Mr. Darcy," He exhorted down the table, where Mr. Darcy smiled and nodded in thanks.

"I still cannot for the life of me explain why they call it Zuppa Inglese," Mr. Darcy mused with a smile, studying the piece currently adorning his fork, "For it in no capacity resembles soup at all."

"Soup?" Charlotte asked, now very confused.

"Zuppa Inglese in Italian means English Soup," George explained across the table. "I suppose it's because the cake is soaked in spirits before it is put together."

"You speak Italian, Mr. Darcy?" Admiral Aubrey asked once he had finished the liberal chunk of cake on his fork.

"Only passably, Admiral. A little conversational French, and then Latin and Greek. Much is required of a young gentlemen at school, I am afraid. As I am sure your own son has found out," George submitted.

"Rather more Greek and Latin than ever I had to learn," the Admiral admitted. "In the service they stress mathematics more than classics; does you more good to navigate than parsing verbs. George is studying to become a physician with my good friend Doctor Maturin at the Royal College."

"A Physician?" Georgiana asked, intrigued. "That is an uncommonly useful profession, Admiral Aubrey. You must be very proud of your son."

"Did you say Doctor Maturin is his tutor?" Lady Barbara inquired.

"Yes, my lady. He has been a long standing friend of mine, and has served aboard several of my commissions as my surgeon. He is a very gifted man," Admiral Aubrey said.

"He is one of the most sought-after physicians in London," Lady Barbara explained, impressed. "To have your son studying with him is indeed a great honor."

Aubrey nodded, wiping at his mouth with his napkin and taking another sip of wine. "To be fair, my lady, he is receiving tutelage from several of the professors at the college, but I will relay your compliments to him the next time we meet."

"You must not see him very often, if he is studying here in town," Georgiana speculated.

"Indeed not, my lady. It is rare we come to town more than once a year. George occasions to come home some times, for the end of term, but he is often with Stephen—Doctor Maturin, I mean. It is very beneficial to his studies to observe him in his private practice when school is not in session." The admiral went on.

"But you will be seeing him this Christmas?" Georgiana pressed.

"Indeed, my lady. For Christmas day."

"But you will be going to the presentation! That is to be Christmas eve! " Georgiana exclaimed. "Is he not to join you for that?"

Admiral Aubrey seemed a little flustered. "I had not thought of that, my lady. I am not the social planner that my wife is. Truthfully, I have not the faintest idea of what we are doing for Christmas."

"That is generally the way of things, Admiral," Georgiana said kindly. "My own husband, God rest him, was very involved in society, but he was a veteran of a great many more social seasons than I was. But a family Christmas. I suppose there are few things better in life," Georgiana smiled down the table at her brother.

"Unless it is a Bennett Family Christmas, "George remarked to Fanny, in a tone so comically morose she snorted into her napkin for the umpteenth time that night. "How I will envy you on the 25th. Grandmother Bennett will harp and cry and Aunt Lydia will never stop talking about her children. Aunt Mary will be silent and stiff, Aunt Kitty will do whatever Aunt Lydia says and Aunt Jane, of course, will be the only sane one besides Grandfather Bennett and Mother."

"Do I detect a minute dislike of your relations, Mr. Darcy?" Fanny asked sarcastically, pushing stray cake crumbs around her plate with a fork tine.

"Only the ones my mother doesn't make me see often," George admitted. "And, rather fortunately, that is almost all of them, maternal and paternal alike."

"You mean to say your mother doesn't invite Lady Catherine over for tea every Sunday?" Fanny asked in a low voice so as not to be overheard by the lady in question. "I should wonder why, she is ever so cordial!"

It was now George's turn to laugh, and while he was thus occupied, Fanny glanced at her sister. Sitting across from George, she too was smiling, watching her lover laugh. Her lover, thought Fanny to herself with private joy. It is the only word for it.

* * *

Yes, an exceptionally long chapter. There's a bunch of in-jokes in this one which I feel I should explain.

"Never trust a man named Jack" comment- Miss Knightley, who plays Elizabeth in the 2005 P&P, has a connexion with another Jack in another movie who is completely without scruples. Coincidently, she is also named 'Elizabeth' in that film.

Count Anatole Kuragin has been borrowed from Count Leo Tolstoy and his novel "War and Peace."

Paul Clifford, by Edward Bulwer Lytton, is indeed where we get the opening line "It was a dark and stormy night" and was actually fairly popular during the 1830s.

"Women in politics" jab- Lady Catherine poking fun at Hilary.

All the food mentioned in this chapter, along with the explanations, is pretty true to form, including Jambalaya, one of my favorite dishes to cook by myself.

The emperor whose name Jack cannot remember is Shan Jehan, and he really did do all those things that I said he did. He planned to build a great black mausoleum right across the way from the Taj Mahal, but I believe he died before work could be started on it. Unfortunately, the royal Durbar of which Tom told Jack did not actually occur until India was made part of the British Empire and Victoria was made Empress of India in the 1860s when Lord Canning was Viceroy. (This story is equal parts fun and history project for me, and I enjoy doing the research.)


	12. Reflective

Chapter Twelve- In which Elizabeth reflects a little.

* * *

Dessert finished and the dinner dishes cleared, the party adjourned to the townhouse's large drawing room, which the servants had cleared of all the furniture save the pianoforte to make room for a bout of dancing.

Charlotte made very quickly for the piano, as was her habit at most social functions, but was headed off by both Mrs. Darcy and Georgiana, who, ever the conniving aunt, was determined to see Charlotte and George dance together.

"Please, Miss Aubrey, you would make my nephew so happy by dancing," Georgiana wheedled in her most alluring tone. "And it is never fit for a woman of my unique social status at the moment to dance, even at family parties. Lady Catherine might have a conniption!" she confided.

Deterred by Georgiana, Charlotte took George's hand and allowed herself to be lead to the middle of the room, to be joined by Lord and Lady Hornblower, Phil and Fanny, and, after a brief discussion that made her laugh, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.

"What do you think of them, Georgiana?" Elizabeth asked when she came once more into the cozy circumference the pianoforte afforded.

"What, George and Charlotte?" Georgiana asked, not looking up from her music. "They remind me much of you and my brother, though she is shy and he is not. I suppose that must be the case for all marriages. It is a good match, Lizzy, despite her want of connection. She will do very well with George, keep house, bring him to church, make sure he visits his parents regularly and keep half a dozen grandchildren for you. Dutiful in every way, and very much in love with your son. There can be nothing better, for he has no need of more money and she has only need of his."

"It is not wrong, in encouraging such a match?" Elizabeth asked, somewhat concerned, watching the young people mill and laugh now that Georgiana had stopped playing the lively dances that had occupied them formerly.

"It becomes tiresome, after a while, having to deal with nearly fifty thousand pounds and a peerage," Georgiana inserted frankly. "Ten thousand a year is more than enough, and if they have need of more…well, he is bright and she will encourage him. I am thinking of giving them a share of my tea plantation in Ceylon."

"Fifty thousand must be inexplicably rich, when you talking of giving away plantation shares as though they were calling cards!" Elizabeth said with a laugh. "And anyway, you must not speak of things like that, it is not decided yet."

Georgiana looked over at her nephew, who had stolen his beloved's arm and clasped it to himself as though it were a treasure he might misplace. "You say that, Lizzy, and I am disinclined to believe it. You, I think, have already decided on behalf of both of them, despite your worrying and fretting."

Elizabeth Darcy sighed; she could put nothing past her sister in law. "If I were to tell you that a certain item much needed in the decision of which we are speaking has already been procured –" she began in a roundabout fashion.

" – I would ask whether it was George or you who had picked it out, and for how long since you met Miss Charlotte it has been in his possession, " Georgiana answered pertly, finishing her piece with a flourish and looking her sister-in-law square in the eye. "Well, Lizzy?"

"Longer than George himself has known he wanted to marry her in the first place," Lizzy admitted sadly. Georgiana smiled knowledgably and excused herself from the piano.

Later that night, Elizabeth took advantage of the private sanctity of the master's bedroom to interrogate her husband on the peculiar circumstances of their son's romantic prospects, beginning with his future in-laws.

"Admiral Aubrey is a most interesting gentleman, Will, do you not agree?" she asked in her most roundabout manner; her husband was still sitting at his desk looking over account books in his nightgown and she was in bed, the book in her hands having none of the distracting effect she had intended it to.

Fitzwilliam turned around, somewhat surprised with this inquiry, and struggled to make up his mind as to its answer. "I find him a tolerable man.

"Ah, well, that is high praise indeed," Lizzy laughed, "since there is a great divide in your opinion between tolerable and only barely tolerable."

"You will never let me live that down, will you, Lizzy?" Mr. Darcy asked his wife good-naturedly. Lizzy smiled and set aside her book, sliding her feet into her bed slippers to softly shuffle over to her husband's desk, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"No, darling, not as long as we are married and have proved your first impression that I was only barely tolerable wrong. Now, returning to Admiral Aubrey," Lizzy reminded.

Her husband collected his thoughts again, mentally rummaging. "Good company at table, if he is a bit abrupt in speech. Sensible, solid in his opinions, good politics…what more do you want me to say of him, Lizzy?"

"Would you mind terribly much if you were to have to see him again? Often?"

"Often? Lizzy Darcy, you've been scheming again!" her husband accused. "I suppose I do not have much say in the matter, and the only acceptable answer is No if I want to sleep in my own bed tonight, so no, my pearl, I do not mind having to see him again in the slightest," Fitzwilliam said in with a teasing disinterest in his voice. There was a contented silence between them, and Fitzwilliam finally said, "You really mean for George to marry Charlotte."

"I have meant it for a long time, Will," Elizabeth confessed.

"And your good opinion, once made, is only very terribly unmade," Fitzwilliam said with a slight chuckle.

"Indeed," Elizabeth said proudly. "Now come along to bed, Will. Old age such as ours may tolerate a new wife and her relations for our son, but it certainly does not tolerate a lack of sleep."

* * *

Just a short little chapter. I haven't been at sorts with myself lately.

* * *


	13. To Be Presented At Saint James's

Chapter 13 – To Be Presented at Saint James' Palace

* * *

The presentation's Christmas Eve dawned bright and clear, the sun appearing like a gauze draped pearl behind the wintery clouds that veiled it from shining fully. Behind the doors of number seven, Eaton Place, Aunt Polly and company were all very busy making final preparations for the trip to St. James that was to take place later that night. Jack, per his usual, said yes to every question asked of him regarding fashion or anything remotely to do with dress and paid more attention to his naval gazette, and so avoided the fluster that had overtaken his womenfolk. Eventually, when her husband's indifference had worn her through, Sophie Aubrey's nerves catapulted her into hysterics and Jack was forced to reconvene his reading at Stephen's house, which was a great deal less lace filled, as well as being a great deal quieter. Truth be told, Sophie was doing more worrying than the both of her daughters put together, although that is often to be found as a condition among mothers without inheritances to give their daughters, and they were more than glad when their mother was given a healthy dose of laudanum after luncheon and put to bed.

Mrs. Darcy called shortly after Mrs. Aubrey was officially indisposed, and was pleased to find that a remarkable calm had overtaken the house. After tea was served, she inspected the girls' dresses, stroked a little more life into the white feathers they would be wearing in their hair, and promised to dispatch her own maid to help dress them as the spectacle drew nearer.

"Thank you, Mrs. Darcy, but Lady Barbara has promised Hebe to us already, and we…we would be very uncouth to refuse her," Charlotte explained.

"Not that we are ungrateful for your own offer, Mrs. Darcy," Fanny interjected. "We do not often have the benefit of an experienced maid for parties such as this."

Mrs. Darcy nodded. "I remember when my own hair was dressed by my sisters before parties. That was one of the only times I saw benefit of having four of them, but there it is." She ran a finger down the line of leaves that had been carefully white-worked onto the front of Fanny's dress and smiled fondly. "You will both look beautiful tonight," she predicted, and sighed contentedly, convinced that her work would finally be coming to its zenith. "Well, that is to be expected of you on any day," she said with a wry smile, making Charlotte blush. "I shall be seeing you at St. James's, ladies. You will ravish them," She promised with a hinting tease in her voice as she left for her own Tillbury out front.

The afternoon could not pass fast enough; Fanny could not read her book with any modicum of concentration, even when it was something so morbidly fascinating as Fielding's Tom Jones, and Charlotte's own literary selection in the second volume of Gaston de Blondeville, the latest offering from the celebrated Mrs. Radcliffe, could not persuade her to cease her desperate pacing across the drawing room. But finally, the desperate hour of their apparent judgment was nigh; their father, who had come home from Maturin's house an hour previously to attend to his own dressing arrangements, met his daughters in the sitting room to be inspected before they left.

Jack's uniform formals had seen many years since their last use, but new life had been lovingly curried back into the buttons and gold facings by Jarvis, Aunt Polly's butler and he looked, in the opinion of both his daughters, very heroic.

Jack laughed when Charlotte told him of this. "I'm sure I don't hold a candle to young captain Hornblower in his dress uniform, or Lord Hornblower, either. Now his uniform will be a sight for you- Knight of the Bath and an admiralty lord. But we Aubreys will make a good enough showing for St. James's. Now come on, let's be off, before the shine leaves these buttons," he counseled his daughters, kissing each of them on the cheek and escorting them to the door.

Spilling out from the majestic towers that marked the Royal Palace out on Pall Mall, the lights of St. James's blazed into the December night as the hired carriage pulled up in front of the official London Residence of the Royal Family. A long line of carriages was slowly dropping off the visiting dignitaries at the gate, and Charlotte tapped her reticule against the carriage door impatiently. Jack noticed his daughter's eagerness and laid his hand over her own small gloved one. "You're going to need to wait a while yet, poppet. There are a great many other young women who rank before you in being presented, you know."

Charlotte acknowledged this with a washed-out smile and went back to watching the people out her window while Fanny produced Tom Jones from god knows where in her own small bag and began reading again in the sparse light from the gas lamps outside. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it was their turn to alight the carriage, and the Aubrey family was allowed to enter into the glowing circles of the Beau Monde and royal company.

As she had promised, Lady Barbara and Lord Hornblower were waiting for the Aubreys just inside the palace, both resplendent in Court dress, the Order of the Bath star gleaming on Lord Horatio's jacket and Jack's. With them was an austere but very well dressed man with the orders of both the Bath and the Garter on his coat as well as a Peninsular Campaign medal with nine campaign bars on it. This, Fanny assumed, must have been the Duke of Wellington, for he bore a slight resemblance to Lady Barbara and stood nearer to her than her husband. Her father evidently recognized him, for he gave a very deep and formal bow, returned by the great man in the slight manner accorded to social inferiors.

"Rear Admiral Aubrey, your reputation precedes you this evening," The Duke said, causing even indefatigable Jack to color a little, "By way of my brother in law, who was very pleased to finally make your acquaintance these many months past. He was just telling me of your battles in the Pacific, which I would be particularly keen to hear about if the time presents itself."

"I shall bear that in mind, your Lordship, and would be equally keen to hear of your own adventures against the French," Jack inserted. The Duke nodded, and then looked to Fanny and Charlotte, who were standing behind their father completely flummoxed that this was indeed the Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington and Hero of Waterloo, that was standing in front of them.

"And these are your daughters, the misses Fanny and Charlotte about which I have heard so much from my sister?"

"They are, your Lordship," Jack said, as if he had quite forgotten his daughters were there, and motioned the girls forward so that they might curtsey for the Duke. They did, very prettily, and waited to be inspected, eyes cast down to the floor at being examined by so prestigious a man as his Lordship the Duke.

"My sister did not exaggerate their charms," the Duke finally pronounced. "Nor my nephew either. Speaking of Richard, Lord Hornblower, where have he and my sons gone off to?" he asked his brother in law, who shrugged in a very un-aristocratic manner and replied hazily that he did not quite know. "Well, we shall not wait for them. This is hardly their sort of party, you know," he said with a cheeky tone that did not quite seem to suit a man of his status, "what with the dozens of pretty girls and all."

Fanny had the good sense to at least smile at the Duke's joke, and was rewarded with a kind and understanding smile in return from this Hero of the Empire and a renewed sense of confidence from it. The duke excused himself to go converse with several other acquaintances who had just arrived, and Lord Hornblower lead them into the great receiving salon where the ceremony would take place. Whilst he and Admiral Aubrey chatted about generalities like manpower for some of these events, Lady Barbara explained the precedence and how the evening would proceed. It was more than enough to give any sane person a headache; As the sister of a duke who was not a hereditary peer, and a peer of the United Kingdom at that, their place would be slightly farther down the list after daughters of the hereditary and created peers of England, Scotland, and Ireland, in that order, but before the other counts and barons of the aforementioned peerages.

"And remember, girls, there will be a great many more Count Jougettes here, so you must not let them get under your skin. You are here with some of the greatest men in the empire, and if they do not respect you, then they are disrespecting the entire army as well as a great majority of the navy!" Lady Barbara said with a smile, glancing at the men of their party with admiration.

The happy party was intruded once more, by the large bell that marked the beginning of the long and arduous festivities of the Christmas Eve presentation. The room was growing hotter as more and more people came in, and fans were produced from reticules to relieve some of the heat. The line seemed endless, even when they were near the top of it; "It follows that perhaps the monarch knows the dukes better from being at the top of so many receiving lines, and feels he must be conversational with all of them," Charlotte said, somewhat miserably.

Finally, when the other twenty dukes who proceeded Wellington on the table of precedence had been dispensed with, "Field Marshal His Grace The Duke of Wellington, Knight of the Garter, Grand Cross Knight of the order of the Bath, Privy Councilor," was finally announced. The crowd seemed to press a little closer to see who exactly besides his sister he had brought with him. "Admiral The Right Honourable The Lord Smallbridge, Knight of the Bath. His wife, The Right Honorable the Lady Smallbridge." And then, loud enough that Charlotte thought perhaps the whole world had heard, "Rear Admiral Sir John Aubrey, Knight of the Bath, Member of Parliament for Milford, of Woolcombe in Dorsetshire, and his daughters, Miss Fanny Aubrey and Miss Charlotte Aubrey."

Fanny and Charlotte performed their curtseys in perfect fashion, and Fanny, for a split second as she looked at the king from under downcast eyes, thought she saw him smile.

"My God, Wellington, if you bring any more of the armed services with you I might have thought you were intent on declaring war!" William said good-naturedly. "Where are your own sons? And your nephew, the honorable Captain Hornblower?"

"I am afraid they have left already, your Majesty. The pressing concerns of young men, you know," Lord Hornblower apologized blithely; he'd done this several times before, Fanny guessed.

The monarch laughed. "Oh, yes, of course. He's doing well, the young Hornblower?" William asked, and Lord Horatio nodded.

"Yes, your majesty. He is doing very well. His ship is in for refitting this winter," the Admiralty Lord explained, and William nodded, commiserating.

"And here is a face we have not seen for a long time. John Aubrey, a rear admiral! Retired, I presume, like so many other good men. Ah, well… we must all grow old, eh? There aren't many of us left who served with Nelson, are there, Aubrey?"

The wind had been mercilessly flung from Jack's sails, and he found himself drifting like a ship that has just lost its rudder. "No, sir, indeed, there are not," he managed, surprised that the King had remembered him.

"And these are your daughters?" William asked, somewhat absently, smiling in a very odd manner, and then, remembering the rest of the queue, turned once more to the Duke. "Yes, very good. Well, Arthur, them's the rules. I shall see you in January when the council reconvenes."

More bows were dispensed, and then the whole dreaded ordeal was over, just like that. Fanny felt strangely shortchanged, perhaps because the monarch had actually spoken to her father, had known him, even, instead of being aloof and bored and everything else she had expected him to be.

"A capital fellow when he was in the service, the King. And tall, too. The Hanoverians breed tall, though, I'm told. Abolished standing to drink the king's health owing to the number of times he clocked his own head on the beams, I'm told!" Lord Horatio was saying as they went into the next room, where the much lower who would not see the king for several hours yet were milling about to the music of a quadrille. "You never told me you served with him, Jack!" Hornblower said, surprised.

"I didn't think he'd remember," Aubrey said, still a little flummoxed at having been spoken to directly by his sovereign. "It was on Boreas, in the West Indies. I was a very young lieutenant, and dined with Nelson and his captains one night. I recall saying something very stupid about weevils."

Fanny smiled; that sounded more like the father she knew and loved. Charlotte, however, was still thinking about something.

"The king seemed to be angry with us," she commented to Lady Barbara as they made their way over to the punch bowl. "I mean, with Fanny and me."

"Oh, that will be nothing, my dear," Lady Barbara reassured her. "The king had two daughters of his own, you see, and both died in infancy. They would be about ten now; I suppose it pains him to see another man of less stature and fortune with more familial happiness than he has. They were very much the same, I suppose, at one time, and now they are so very different."

"Oh," Charlotte said rather lamely, regretting she had asked. The party seemed to have lost a little bit of its glimmering grandeur.

"Now, come, Charlotte, you can't mope all evening- it's Christmas Eve, remember?" Lady Barbara counseled practically. "And you've been presented to the King. You've just as much right to dance as well as anyone here, daughter of a landowner or a landgrave."

"Yes, you're in Saint James's; you must dance!" Richard said happily from behind them.

"Richard, you are nonsensically late," Lady Barbara said, kissing her son on both cheeks. "You missed the presentation. The King asked after you."

"Did he now?" Richard inquired with muted interest.

"Aunt Barbara, you mustn't tell lies to Richard, it gives him an exaggerated idea of himself," another very elegantly dressed young man said from behind Richard.

"Charlotte, allow me to introduce my nephews, Arthur and Charles. They are-"

"Wellington's sons, unfortunately, but please, Miss Charlotte, do not let that frighten you away. If you will oblige me with a dance, I would be the happiest man in the room," Arthur said gallantly, offering her his arm. Charlotte colored charmingly and accepted, the white feathers in her hair bobbing gaily.

Richard freed himself from the company of his mother and cousin to head in the direction of Admiral Aubrey and Fanny, who were still talking about the West Indies. He bowed elegantly, interrupting them with as little fuss as possible. "If I may, Admiral Aubrey, this humble son of the empire would like to steal the attention of your daughter for a dance," Richard asked, the gold epaulettes shining brilliantly in the light from the mirrors and the candles adorning the walls.

Jack smiled sedately and released his daughter to the rigors of the dance floor and the watchful eyes of the young Captain Hornblower, watching them discreetly from a distance. Sophie might have thought her husband paid less attention to the marital affairs of their daughters than he paid to their own marriage, but she was mistaken in the belief that her husband cared not one iota for the future happiness of their children. Indeed, Jack cared very much for the welfare of his daughters, and it pleased him still more if perhaps one daughter's happiness was aligned properly with his own ideas of what might also provide for their future welfare and his own future sanity.

"Is Phil well?" Fanny asked, trying not to sound too eager for the prospect of news. Richard tried to keep his smile genuine.

"He is doing well, and plans to stay at our house till the New Year, when the shipping lanes will open again and he may return home," Richard explained. "We are glad to have him with us for so long."

Fanny was at a loss, and Richard went on. "Are you still reading the Arabian Nights?" he inquired, making a careful study of her face as he did so.

"Oh, no, I have finished that. I am reading Tom Jones now. At Phil's suggestion."

"Of course," Richard said shortly, a little disappointed but trying not to show it. There was silence between them for a while until Richard, finding it more awkward than he liked, broke it. "And do you like it very much?" he asked.

"Yes, very much," Fanny said, her voice almost brusque. "I find Sophie to be a most admirable woman."

"Is she as Amazonian as you or is there some other trait she possesses that you admire?" Richard asked. "Sadly, I have never read any of Mr. Fielding's scandal-mongering books." Richard said, by way of explanation. Fanny laughed.

"If you think I am an Amazon, Captain Hornblower, then Sophie would register to you as a perfect angel, for there is nothing farther from the truth to describe her. She is polite, refined and modest, which is why Tom Jones loves her so," Fanny recalled. "I should give anything to be as perfect as she is."

"Do you not think yourself perfect now?" Richard asked, gazing at her intently. Fanny gave him a surprised look.

"If I was perfect then there would be no room for improvements," she said succinctly. "And I intend to improve myself a great deal."

"I am sure there are others who would disagree on the subject of your perfection," Richard said in a voice that was a little too sweet for subtly. Fanny looked at him askance and he quickly countered, "Like Phil, for instance. I am sure he finds you very perfect."

This pronouncement was music to Fanny's ears, and she was a little overcome with a blush in her cheeks, causing her to look away from Richard for a moment. "Do you really think so?" she asked girlishly, and Richard nodded, a bravely stoic look on his own face.

"I am …quite certain of it," he said stiffly, trying hard to smile as they finished their dance.

It was a wonderful evening. Charlotte was gallantly attended to the whole evening by Arthur and Charles Wellesley, who must have found her unaffected shyness very refreshing. Fanny remained in the mediating circumference of the adults where conversation did not seem quite as rigid and wooden as with the other young people, and danced with everyone who asked, including the Duke himself, which turned quite a few heads and made Lady Barbara the most sought after gossip in the room. Fanny did 

not lack for partners after that, and her winning smile, as well as her lack of fortune, broke many hearts that evening.

"A pity she's not richer," she heard one of her partners tell his friend as they walked away to join their mothers and sisters, who were all whispering about the Aubrey girls behind their fans, "for she'd make an excellent duchess if the title came her way."

Fanny made the good choice of declining to tell this to either her mother, whose crowing was loud enough as it was, or to Lady Barbara, who after Fanny's turn with her brother had declared discreetly that Kitty Wellesley had better watch her back.

They had seen Georgiana there and talked with her for a little while; her escort, a tall and very handsome looking gentleman, was identified later as a Mr. Rowland Rochester of Thornfield Hall, a brother to a Jamaican acquaintance of Richard's he had met at the house of one Mr. Bertram Mason, a wealthy Creole merchant and business associate of Phil's parents. The Marquise brushed off Fanny and Charlotte's concerns for the tide of gossip following in her wake with remarkable self-possession, and told them to enjoy themselves instead of worrying about her: "The Marquess hated to see me in black," she said confidentially, "and he'd have hated even more to see me sitting instead of dancing. In fact, he'd probably tell me to hang the rules and flaunt myself a little," she admitted, "so I've no qualms whatsoever about being seen with a very good looking man in public, mourning or not."

Emboldened by Georgiana's fearlessness, the Aubrey girls did not allow the gossips to ruin their evening as well and returned home to their mother (who by this time had recovered from her laudanum dosing of earlier in the afternoon) wreathed in smiles and joy, full of stories that they assured their mother could wait till morning, and went promptly to bed.

Yes, you all should have gotten that Jane Eyre reference at the end there with Georgiana's companion. This was one of my favorite chapters to write – Arthur Wellesley was a blast to write.

The literary references are a bit heavy in this chapter, too – if you've never read Tom Jones, I would go get the Cliff's Notes to understand why it's so scandalous.

I've put up a woodle involving a much older and stodgier Jack and his son (Fanny and Charlotte's younger brother) George. You all are welcome to read it, but it gives away some of the endings in this story.


	14. Christmas Surprises

Chapter 14—Christmas Day Surprises

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Christmas morning was, in contrast to the previous day, very foggy. The characteristic London mists, however, could not obscure the happiness and familial bliss that descended on Aunt Polly's household when the bell rang to announce the arrival of the seldom seen brother, the younger George about whom not much has been said in this story already.

George Aubrey, the same son and brother who had thoroughly disappointed his father by renouncing the navy as his career of choice and going instead into the medical profession, had grown several inches since his mother had seen him last and was now nearly as tall as his papa, not a lean accomplishment at all, as Jack Aubrey was a good deal taller than six feet. His sisters had to stand on tip-toe to kiss his cheek, and he played his part as annoying younger brother very well by taking the opportunity to steal hairpins and, in the case of Charlotte, filch a hair-ribbon and dangle it over her head while she in turn struggled to return it to her possession.

"George," complained his sister, grasping for the accoutrement and giggling uncontrollably, "You've had your fun, now give it back!"

George finally released his hostage and sighed. "I don't get to do that very often, you know, Lottie," he complained as his sister tied her hair back in. Charlotte smiled at her younger brother and gave him a light slap in the arm.

"Just tell me you don't do that to Bridget and I'll be satisfied," she said with an older sister smile. "I thought physicians were supposed to be very grave and drab about things," she prodded.

"I couldn't very well do that all the time, or I'd go mad," the sixteen year old said. "I like Uncle Stephen very well and all, but he's a great deal too serious. I think that's where Bridget gets it from. Old before her time…I would hate to be like that."

"No, Lottie, you watch him. He'll marry Bridget, they'll have nine children and more dogs and cats than you can count, take care of the entire parish, and live like church mice but be perfectly happy in spite of it," Fanny predicted, stealing George's tiepin before he had anything to say about her forecasting and leading him off to chase her and try and both defend his interest in Bridget as well as retrieve the errant tiepin.

"I don't like Bridget like that, Fanny!" George defended, in pursuit of the tiepin. Fanny laughed.

"Oh, you say that, George, but any fool could see that you like her, and she likes you," she sermonized, rounding on him to hand back the pin. "Father couldn't be any less pleased with you for marrying her."

"A little early to be thinking about marriage for him, isn't it?" Jack asked, embracing his son and giving him a good thump between the shoulder blades. "George my boy, how go things in St. Andrew's Street?"

"Well enough, Papa," George said, escaping his father's embrace to kiss his mother on both cheeks and hand his coat, hat, and walking stick off to Jarvis. "Uncle Stephen will be around in a bit -- he said not to wait. He had a late night last night with one of the locals, and Bridget will bring him round once he's had some sleep."

Sophie tut-tutted her displeasure and led her son into the drawing room, where the Christmas tree sat poised in its entire fat evergreen splendor rigged with all the accoutrements of its proud office as master of ceremonies. "I wish Stephen didn't involve you in all of these charity cases he takes on, George," she opined. "A physician is only for the wealthy. The poor should make do with their surgeons and apothecaries; it pays better to keep such hours, you know."

"Mama, I think it's perfectly normal to take on 'charity cases' as you call them; why should the rich be the only ones who receive the benefit of a trained professional? Uncle Stephen's a physician and a surgeon, which is more than most can say. And besides, they pay just as well as any of his clients on Park Lane – better, even. Joe Herbert, the man he helped last night after a nasty fall on the ice, is going to fix Bridget's rocking chair for payment. That's more helpful than just the standard 'five shillings sixpence' kind of bill he normally gets."

"Yes, well, your uncle never was a wise one," Sophie said sagely. "Better a gold guinea then a promise unkempt, that's what my mother always said."

"It's cheaper to have Joe fix it than having the carpenter come," George finally reasoned, playing his last card and winning over his mother just as Aunt Polly came in with Jarvis and the tea. "Good, presents!" he said, sitting on the settle. "Which one's mine?"

Fanny frowned at him and went for one of the packages. "Papa first," she reminded, pointedly handing her father the first box. "From Charlotte and I," she said, waiting as her father ripped off the wrapping to find a framed map for his study. Jack beamed.

"My daughters are too good to me," he said, gazing fondly at the delicately limed coastline of the Mediterranean. "Thank you, girls."

And on it went- a cushion for Mama, handkerchiefs and an apron for George, perfume for Sophie from Jack, soaps for Fanny and Charlotte from their brother ("French," remarked Jack somewhat disapprovingly,) and candied fruit for everyone from Jack, who argued that since he was the one paying for education and dresses he was exempt from giving Christmas presents to his children.

"Here now, where's my apprentice got to?" Called a familiar voice from the hall. George quickly got up off the couch and opened the door to a very cold looking Doctor Maturin and his equally cold looking daughter. "You're going to have to keep a watch on that boy of yours, Jack, he's made of trouble," Stephen said with a grumpy sort of smile, embracing his long-time friend.

"Don't I know it," Jack reasoned, patting Stephen on the back and turning to Bridget. "You look very lovely this morning, Bridget. I'm sure your mother would approve."

"Thank you, Uncle Jack," Bridget said with a slim smile. George took the opportunity to help her to the divan, and Fanny and Charlotte exchanged a look, smiling between the two of them. Once settled, Bridget opened up the basket and began passing around her gifts; herbal sachets for Mrs. Aubrey to put in her clothes chests and special teas for her 'nervous attacks.' Jack was the recipient of a very handsome looking bottle of wine, which he had Jarvis put aside for dinner, and George, who had received his present already, feted it around by blowing his nose several times very conspicuously so that they could all see the very delicately embroidered GA that graced the corner of his new pocket handkerchiefs.

Fanny and Charlotte were both given bags of what appeared to be a fine gray powder. "What is it?" Charlotte asked, brushing the mixture with her finger.

"Taste it," Bridget said with a smile, and interested, Charlotte raised the dust covered finger to her lips, her tongue darting out to touch it. She thought for a moment and then licked the finger clean, smiling.

"It's drinking chocolate! But with…something else added."

"Spearmint." Bridget explained. "Father and I dry the leaves, and then grind them up for flavoring."

Charlotte passed the bag for everyone to taste, and the smiles were universal. "What a wonderfully clever daughter you have, Stephen," Jack said with a smile, licking his finger clean. "You should sell this."

"I'm a doctor, not a confectioner," Stephen said, his arm around his daughter's shoulders. "But she is very clever, and I am very, very proud of her."

The drinking chocolate was served that afternoon instead of tea, to the mutual delight of all, and Bridget's confectionary genius was once again lauded, for the chocolate, once properly sweetened and prepared whipped to the delicate froth for which chocolate shops all over London were known for, was far better than the bitter powder of the raw base.

By far the best gift anyone received that day was a letter, from George to Charlotte, delivered by hand just after luncheon and eagerly devoured by the addressee as soon as time permitted.

"My darling Charlotte," he wrote,

_"I hope that your Christmas has been just as pleasant as mine has been nightmarish; having all four of my mother's sisters, not to mention their children and husbands, in one house has been nothing short of disastrous. My Aunt Jane and Uncle Charles behave well enough, but the rest of the family, as you have no doubt gathered from our previous conversations, is in a terrible shambles where manners are concerned. My Aunt Lydia is once again with child (this is their seventh) and spends all her time crowing very loudly about what pain she is in. Her husband, my Uncle George (whom I am not named after), is oblivious to all of this, and spends his time either playing cards or drinking. Both of these activities, I should add, are not done at home, since he is hardly ever there; a welcome change for my father, who does not get on very well with him owing to events that transpired well before my birth and which my mother says she will someday explain in full._

_Aunt Kitty and Uncle Frederic are just as bad, for they seem to think they have more money than the Darcys, which is preposterous, considering that Uncle Fred is only a barrister. Additionally, their three daughters seem to have been taught since infancy that one of them will marry me, and as such are making gift giving a yearly pain, as they all expect smallish jewelry boxes containing rings and are forever disappointed when that is not their gift. To add to all this, Aunt Mary and her husband, the Reverend Wimple, are both constantly quoting from a selection of books that would make your sister cringe in boredom in an attempt to counterbalance the stupidity of the other side of the family and are only succeeding in making everyone more perturbed._

_In short, Charlotte, I am hoping that your company will provide me with a much needed island of sanity in the coming weeks when you accompany me to the opera on Saturday next. Aunt Jane has agreed to chaperone us. If you refuse me, I shall be forced to take one of my cousins, and will probably end up saying something I will later regret. Please respond as soon as possible, your adoring if overtaxed at the moment, **GEORGE**."_

Charlotte, who despite herself had been smiling and occasionally laughing throughout the entirety of the distraught letter, responded immediately.

"George,

_I should feel very ashamed of myself if I did not extend a helping hand to you in this, your hour of distress, and will most gladly accept the invitation to the opera. My own Christmas has been quite delightful, and I am sincerely sorry to hear that yours has not. My brother George is spending the week with us, and I would like very much for you to meet him, as I think you will get on splendidly. We are here for callers on Fridays._

_Your affectionate** CHARLOTTE**."_

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